


Shifted

by Gia279



Series: These Ain't Your Momma's Paperbacks [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (mild?) angst, Alive Hales, Alternate Universe, BAMF Stiles, Break Up and Make Up, Full Shift Werewolves, Gore, Happy Ending, M/M, Memory Tampering, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, No Hale Fire, Pack Dynamics, Painful transformations, Sleepwalking, Stiles finds out, Stiles reads the Wrong werewolf lore, Violence, Werewolf!Stiles Stilinski, alpha pack, bitten Scott, man-eating feral werewolves, memory manipulation, murder also treated casually, relationship angst, see AN for details, violence treated super casually, violent werewolf life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-10-26 21:48:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 48,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: What the fuck?Stiles’s eyes snapped open. He leaped back.A semi-truck blew by, horn blaring in annoyance.Stiles looked around. His heart quickened at the unfamiliar shadows. His phone rang again, startling him. He fumbled it out of his pocket to answer, fingers sliding awkwardly over the screen.“Where are you?” Talia’s voice snapped with urgency.Stiles looked down. His feet were bare and dirty, but he’d still been wearing jeans when he fell asleep. “I’m not sure.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Read the tags.**
> 
> Seriously, I don't know how to tag it more clearly than I have done, but to reiterate: there will be murder, and gore, and violence, and it's all treated as a part of werewolf life, so it's treated casually. I love you all, but I really, _really_ don't want a bunch of complaints about how everyone is treating murder. Is bloody. 
> 
> Anyhow, on to the fun stuff. This was obviously based on several paperbacks smooshed together with my own fun added in, there's drama and it took forever to post because I was trying to edit it into something readable, then finally gave up and decided it was good enough, and that I've posted worse, so hopefully it's at least a little fun for everyone! 
> 
> It's finished, but I'll only be posting once or twice a week at this point because I'm not sure about it and might keep editing as I go.

_What the fuck?_ Stiles’s eyes snapped open. He leaped back.

A semi-truck blew by, horn blaring in annoyance. 

Stiles looked around. His heart quickened at the unfamiliar shadows. His phone rang again, startling him. He fumbled it out of his pocket to answer, fingers sliding awkwardly over the screen.

“_Where are you?_” Talia’s voice snapped with urgency. 

Stiles looked down. His feet were bare and dirty, but he’d still been wearing jeans when he fell asleep. “I’m not sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There aren’t any signs, but.” He inhaled. Exhaust mingled with grass and thick trees, faint animal scents mixing in. “Outside the city. Think I’ve been here before. I’m next to a road.”

“_I’m sending Laura to pick you up and take you home._”

He sighed. “Thanks.” 

“_Of course. Stay where you are so she can track you, okay?_” 

“Okay.” 

“_Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?_” Her voice softened, now that she knew he was okay.

“No, I’m alright. Goodnight.”

“_Goodnight, Stiles._” She hung up.

Stiles rubbed his eyes, still groggy. He tipped his head back, locating the moon. Half full. He always sleepwalked more the closer to the full moon it got. He dropped his gaze, frustrated and tired. He looked in the direction he’d been walking, then turned around. He started walking back the way he came. He could see faint marks from where he stumbled in his sleep. There was a rotting log that his own scent was all over, blocking his path twenty feet in. A glance at his forearms revealed damp bark and mud. He’d obviously clambered over it in his sleep. Sighing, he checked for cars. 

He leaped over it from a stand-still and landed on his feet on the other side. He took his phone out, turned on his location, and pulled up his GPS. He started walking again, letting it lead him closer to his apartment. 

Laura found him two hours later, her bright red Camaro slowing beside him. “You okay?”

He got into the passenger seat and buckled in. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry to drag you out of bed.”

She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

He clenched his jaw and stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. 

“Hey,” Laura said when they were outside of his apartment.

He paused, one hand gripping the door handle. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home?”

His eyes narrowed. “I _am_ home,” he growled.

Resignation or hurt—or maybe annoyance, he couldn’t really differentiate yet—entered her scent. She sighed harshly. “Fine. Do you want me to stay in case you go wandering again?”

The loneliness he struggled with crept up, the longing for pack nearly bowling him over. He didn’t _want_ to say no, which was irritating. “Yes,” he muttered. He added, “Please,” through his teeth.

Laura didn’t comment on his attitude. She simply shut the car off and went upstairs with him.

Stiles gave up once they were in the apartment. He’d missed her and everyone, he’d missed Beacon Hills and the scent of pack. He sighed and leaned into her. 

She scrubbed a hand over his hair, mixing the scent of pack that clung to her into his. “Why do you fight it so hard?”

He shook his head. He had a lump in his throat, fury and betrayal and loneliness all balled up so he couldn’t speak. He hated them for not understanding, and he loved them because he couldn’t help it. 

Laura sighed and went to his couch. “I’m gonna put on a movie.”

“’Kay. I have to clean up.” He fled to the bathroom. 

He scrubbed bark and dirt from his hands and feet, then washed his face. He changed into pajamas quickly. 

The apartment felt fuller, less cold and isolated, even with just Laura there with him. Stiles sighed, resigned, and grabbed some blankets from his bed. 

Laura didn’t say anything when he curled up with her on the couch. They watched _Crazy Rich Asians_ in silence, until they both drifted off.

Stiles dreamed of the day he was bitten.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Sorry these are all short; I would normally have posted two at once because the first two are short, but I'm still feeling unsure about this fic, though I'm glad some of you seem to like it! <3 I may post chapter 3 next week or later this week; I haven't decided yet.

Stiles met the Hales a year ago. He’d met them through his then-boyfriend of two years, Derek Hale. He’d known of them even before meeting them, since they lived on the outskirts of Stiles’s hometown.

Derek had taken Stiles home to meet his family, officially, though he’d met a few of them in passing already. He’d been nervous, endearingly—or Stiles had thought that at the time, though in hindsight it made Stiles’s blood boil. He had something big to talk to Stiles about, but it’d had to wait until they were with his family.

Stiles had expected a lot of things, braced for best and worst case scenarios the entire trip. What he’d gotten was worse than any worst case he could have dreamt up.

The Hales were werewolves.

Stiles had laughed when Talia Hale, Derek’s mother, “and alpha,” Derek had helpfully added, had told Stiles it was true. She hadn’t seemed surprised, just a little amused. She’d told Derek to go ahead, if he’d like.

Derek had stripped, right there in front of his mother.

Before Stiles could react beyond a gasp, Derek had shifted.

His skin had shuddered; he tipped forward on all fours, shivering, and then he was a wolf. He was large and pitch black, ears tipped forward. 

Stiles had toppled his chair leaping away. 

Derek lowered onto his belly, whining.

“It’s still Derek,” Talia reassured him. “He’s just showing you a part of himself you haven’t seen yet.” 

Stiles had nodded, gasping open-mouthed, and had felt his brain trying to turn itself inside out. “I need,” he announced, “some air.” He’d held his hands out, sure he’d be stopped.

Talia and Derek had just stared at him.

“I need to clear my head. I’ll be back.” He nodded and marched out like he wasn’t terrified. 

He’d walked for ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the black wolf had caught up to him.

It seemed somehow larger out in the woods, with a tuft of white on its right shoulder. 

Stiles had rambled at him, he remembered. Told him he still needed time, and that it wasn’t fair to spring this on him and expect him to be okay. He just needed some time to think, was all.

And Derek…

Derek had taken Stiles’s hand between his teeth, gently at first. And he’d bitten down hard, breaking skin.

Stiles had gasped, yanking away and shouting at Derek, confused and hurt. 

Derek had turned Stiles into a werewolf after he’d only known of their existence for less than an hour, against his will, without even showing his _face._

Stiles had run from him.

The transformation was brutal; Stiles had been sick and delirious for a couple weeks. His body had contorted and shifted painfully, out of his control. Talia and the pack had taken turns taking care of him, locked in a basement cell until he could once again control his own body. 

He vaguely remembered being spoken to, being asked what had happened, but he was so delirious at the time, he had no memory of his answers or the exact questions.

No one had argued or passed judgement one way or another when he’d broken up with Derek, too furious and betrayed to even be in the same room as him.

Stiles was part of the Hale pack, but barely. He was on the fringes, just enough to connect him to them and keep him anchored. 

He liked most of them, even secretly, deep down, longed to belong fully to the pack, but…

They all seemed _sad_ that he was mad at Derek. 

_None_ of them, not even the once-human members, seemed to understand why Stiles was so mad at Derek, and he was too furious to explain. Too furious that they didn’t see the _wrongness_ of Derek taking away Stiles’s choices to reason with them. He’d learned to live with it, same with his ADHD. The sleepwalking had started as soon as he was in his own apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy a longer chapter. <3 I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it. Now...onto the juicy bits.

Derek was hunched over a book and several notebooks when Laura got home. He tensed and kept working. He hated Classical Latin, he had no idea why he kept agreeing to do translations for his mother’s friends. 

Laura walked past his open door without pausing. Her scent wafted in.

Derek went rigid and his pen snapped in half. Swearing, he jerked away from the book, letting ink drip into his trash can. He glared at the smudges on his fingers. He shook himself, dropped the pen in the trash, and got up. He looked at the book, then left the room. He bypassed the living room for the kitchen, slipping out the back door before any of the pack could question him.

He pulled his clothes off on the fly, tossing his shirt one direction, his pants another. Socks and shoes were kicked away. The shift came over him easily, a shiver and a feeling like letting go.

The preserve was sharper like this, cleaner, just the woods and Derek.

He ran. He pushed through foliage, branches and thorns catching at his fur, until he was off the path. He ran until the sting of hurt was just an ache. 

He settled at the bank of a creek, panting. He flopped onto his side and shut his eyes. This was nothing new. He should be used to it. 

Leaves rustled. A twig snapped. Beneath the sounds of the woods, light, slow footsteps alerted him to the presence of another predator. Derek tipped his ear toward the sound, muscles tensing.

Cora was creeping up behind him, her heartbeat speeding up with anticipation the closer she got.

Another wolf landed on Derek from the front. He snarled, rolling to his feet and snapping his teeth.

Boyd danced back, tail held high. 

Derek bared his fangs. 

Cora leaped onto his back, teeth digging into his shoulder.

He snorted and dropped, then rolled. He bucked her off and ran at Boyd. 

Boyd met him head on and tackled him. They tumbled in the dirt. Boyd clamped his mouth over Derek’s bottom jaw, growling playfully.

Derek shook his head. He batted Boyd’s face with a paw until he let go, then lowered his head between his shoulders and growled.

Cora rammed into him from the side, knocking him into the creek. She yipped playfully and splashed in after him. 

Boyd joined them, nimbly picking his way across high rocks to keep from getting wet. He sat and observed them with superiority. 

Cora bounced around near his rock, splashing his legs and yipping excitedly when he bared his teeth. 

Derek huffed and made for the bank. He wasn’t in the mood for this today, and was more likely to actually hurt one of them than anything.

Cora bolted over and blocked his path. She licked his muzzle and flicked her ears with her head ducked just under his eye level. 

Derek snorted and pulled his upper lip back. He stepped around her, picking his way over the bigger rocks.

She bolted around, slipping and splashing, until she could block him again, this time standing with her whole body stretched out as far as she could. 

He shook his head. He shifted back to human, rolling his shoulders. “Move, Cora. I don’t want to play.”

Boyd asked, “Why not?”

When Derek looked, Boyd was sitting with his feet in the water, human shaped.

“I’m not in the mood,” Derek muttered. 

Cora turned back as well. “Come on, Derek.” She looked a little frustrated and sad. “It’s been a year.”

“Shut up.” He would probably never get over Stiles, no matter how long it’d been, but Stiles didn’t have to know that. 

“Laura only went because he’s sleepwalking again,” Boyd said casually. 

Derek made himself shrug, just as casual. “I have work to do,” he told them. He walked away, leaving them to go bury himself in Latin spellbooks. He collected his clothes as he went in, and even grabbed Cora’s t-shirt that had gotten caught in tree branches. 

He threw himself into his work. Usually he translated legal documents, books, simple, human things, but on occasion a witch or druid would commission him for an old spellbook or potion recipe. Family heirlooms they’d found, usually. They were interesting, but they were also difficult to translate, tended to be dusty and faded, and to be written in spindly script that made looking at it a headache. 

Erica knocked on his door. “Hey,” she said without waiting for an answer. “You running with us?”

He looked up. “Yeah.” He rubbed his face. “Is it time already?”

She smirked. “Yeah, Talia called everyone outside.”

“Oh.” He stood, stretched, and followed her out. 

The pack _was_ outside, milling around the yard. Laura and Adam, Derek’s father, had already shifted. They were tussling in the grass. 

Talia saw Derek and beckoned him. 

Erica left him to go tackle Isaac. 

“How’re the translations coming?” Talia asked.

Relieved, Derek said, “I should be done with them in a couple days.”

“Good. I’ll let Trish know.” She squeezed his arm. 

Peter paused next to Derek to watch Erica sit on Isaac and snorted, then shifted and ran to join them.

Derek observed the pack and sighed, contentment settling over him. He tossed his clothes in the haphazard pile everyone else had already made and joined them. 

They ran together through the preserve, falling in formation automatically when Talia caught the scent of a deer. A buck, it smelled like; there were plenty in the preserve. They didn’t hunt them often, so it was a treat, working together to bring it down. 

They ate and played until they were exhausted. 

Derek shook Isaac off his back and laid down near Laura, pressing his nose into her fur and inhaling deeply. He whined; she still smelled faintly like Stiles…Just enough to feel like a punch to the gut. He whimpered and curled up under her foreleg.

She huffed and nudged him. When he didn’t move, she nipped the back of his neck until he eased off, grumbling. 

He sighed deeply and let her clean the blood off his muzzle with big, diligent licks, one leg pinning down both of his forelegs.

Cora curled up against Derek’s side, and Boyd laid in front of him. The rest of the pack filled in, piling on each other until they were one warm heap of fur and twitching limbs. 

Derek sighed deeply and rested his head on Boyd’s back. He squeezed his eyes closed, burrowing his muzzle into Boyd’s fur. 

He wished Stiles could see how great this was: the contentment, the closeness, the affection. He couldn’t…couldn’t fathom how Stiles could hate what they were _so much._

What happened to him was unfair, but they’d done their best to make it easier on him. They’d looked for the alpha who’d changed him, but hadn’t been able to track the scent for long. Whoever it was had experience disguising their scent. 

Derek sighed again, falling asleep with that familiar ache in his chest and the scent of pack in his nose.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still making edits as I go, because I still just...feel eh about this one. I hope it's enjoyable either way.

Derek woke in degrees, grumbling under his breath. His fur was damp. His head was still resting on Boyd’s back, but Boyd had shifted back in his sleep. Erica was curled up beside him in her fur, tucked under his arm and snoring lightly. 

Derek snorted and tried to move, found himself half-pinned by Isaac and Peter. He wriggled free, stepping lightly over Laura and around Adam’s sprawled legs. He glanced back, but everyone was still asleep, so he headed toward the house alone. He’d just gotten to the backyard when he heard someone chasing him. He tensed and froze. 

Talia raced past him, shifting mid-stride. She was just as fast on two legs, and made it to the porch within seconds. She grabbed clothes from the pile without looking at them and ran in through the back door. 

Derek shifted back and followed her. He paused to grab pants, yanking them on even after realizing they were Boyd’s. 

“Can I help you, Deputy?” Talia was saying, her tone annoyed. “It’s quite early.”

Derek stepped through the laundry room and into the kitchen. He could see Talia in baggy basketball shorts—Isaac’s—and a skin-tight, sparkly red tank top—Erica’s. 

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry about that. We’ve been warning everyone in the area,” the deputy said carefully.

Derek snorted. There were all of two other houses near them on the preserve, and one was a winter cabin owned by a reclusive writer. 

“Warning them?” Talia repeated. 

“There have been some maimed animals in the area, ma’am. Rabbits and some stray dogs and cats.” 

Derek tensed.

The deputy continued, “They keep getting closer to residential areas. We’re pretty sure there’s a coyote around that’s sick or rabid doing it, but Sheriff wanted us warning everyone in case it was something bigger or more dangerous. He just wanted to let you know to be careful in the woods.” 

“I see,” Talia said slowly. “Did the sheriff mention what else it could be?”

“He said maybe a bear or mountain lion or…” The deputy chuckled awkwardly. “He said maybe wolves, but we reminded him that there aren’t any around here.”

Talia said, “Of course. Thank you for the warning, Deputy Haig.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry to wake you. Have a good day, and be safe.” 

Talia was quiet a moment. 

Derek listened to the deputy pull away. 

“Mangled animals.”

Derek sucked in a breath. 

“Go bring everyone inside,” she said. “We have to look. Sheriff wouldn’t suggest wolves if he didn’t want us to look into it.”

Derek went and got everyone else.

Herding sleepy werewolves was worse than herding cats, but he managed, and eventually everyone was gathered in the living room, sprawled on furniture, the floor, and each other. Peter was the only one standing, frowning at his phone as he texted his son. 

Derek poked Isaac’s leg until he moved enough for him to sit down.

“The police were here,” Talia announced. She was sitting in one of the armchairs, legs curled up under her, the claws of her left hand dug into the arm, spilling stuffing out. She’d changed into her own clothes while Derek had gathered everyone, but her hair was still a tangled mess, her eyes underscored with tired bruises. “Something has been mangling animals—not eating them—close to town. Sheriff Stilinski isn’t entirely sure it’s an animal doing it, so we’re going to investigate.” 

Cora scoffed. “What, he thinks it’s a werewolf? We eat our food.” She snapped her teeth playfully.

Erica sat up, eyes gleaming. “Maybe it’s a mutt.”

“Erica,” Adam scolded.

Derek winced.

_Mutt_ was just what most packs called werewolves who had no pack. That was a rough life for a werewolf, no pack to anchor them or comfort them when the world was too loud or bright or overwhelming. Most of them tended to go just a little…feral. Some went worse. 

Derek worried that Stiles would end up like that, but every time he pulled a little too much at the bond tethering him to the Hale back, he’d ease up, fold himself closer again. 

“She’s right,” Peter said. “Call them what you want, Adam, but if there are other wolves in our territory, it’s our job to boot them out before they hurt anybody.”

Talia nodded. “Derek, Laura, Peter, and Erica, I want you to check the territory for other wolves. Boyd, you’ll accompany me to see the animals, see if we can get a scent. Cora, Isaac, go up to the city to check in with Stiles.” 

Derek tensed.

Talia glanced at him and away. “He’s still pack, and if it is strange wolves, he’s our most unprotected member in the territory.” She looked at Peter.

Peter hummed. “I’m sure Stiles is fine.” He texted something.

Talia narrowed her eyes. “Cora, Isaac, get dressed please.”

They both scrambled up and out of the room.

Adam stood. “Guess I’ll hold down the fort?”

Talia smiled up at him. “You could always go sniff-test some animal carcasses in my place, love.”

He shook his head. “I’ll get some lunch going.”

“Come on, Erica, we’ll take the southern border,” Peter ordered.

Erica bounced up to follow him. She and Peter were just similar enough that he’d taken an instant liking to her, and had trained her himself after she’d taken the bite.

Derek knew Peter had trained Stiles, though to a lesser extent, and never at the house.

Stiles and Erica just had the kind of instinct Peter related to, so he’d taken to them. 

Derek was more like Laura and Talia, who’d rather try to reason with people before plotting their demise. 

“Coming?” Laura prodded at him.

“Yep.” He stood. 

“We’ll head north, then east. Peter and Erica can handle the rest.” She pulled a hair elastic out of the pile on the coffee table and pulled her hair back. “Race ya to the border,” she said, and bolted out.

Derek didn’t bother responding. He just went after her.  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying this!

Cora held up her hands when Stiles swung open his door, halfway to snapping at her. “Chill. Mom sent us.”

“I don’t need babysitters,” he seethed. 

Cora scowled at him. “Okay, first, get over yourself. Mom sent us because there might be strange wolves in the territory. As _much_ as you act like a dick, you’re still part of the pack, so we’re here to make sure you don’t get jumped. And second, I don’t think I _care_ what Mom says. You talk to me like that again and I’ll kick your ass.” She lifted a brow. “Now, do we need to force our way in? We can. We’ve been living with the pack. And you…” She sniffed deliberately and grinned. “You’ve been shifting in the city, walking around pretending to be a stray, hunting…” She sniffed again.

“Rats,” Isaac supplied, speaking for the first time. “And a bird…?”

“Seagull,” Stiles muttered, embarrassed. It wasn’t like they were wrong; they looked fit and healthy, strong, animal gleams in their eyes. Stiles didn’t look _unhealthy_, per se, but only his human side was flourishing, so to speak. 

Cora and Isaac looked like the perfect example werewolves, human and wolf seamlessly merged into one very capable being.

“Fine.” He stepped aside. 

“You missed us,” Cora said lightly. She went straight to the couch and flopped down.

Isaac hung around the foyer, watching as Stiles did up the locks. “That’s…excessive.”

Stiles shrugged. “Makes it harder for me to get out when I’m asleep.” He didn’t mention the fact that he’d woken up halfway out his bedroom window the night before. He was working on how to seal that without losing his deposit. 

“You should decorate a little,” Cora said. She was studying the blank walls of his living room. 

“Look, I have to work, and I have a meeting with a professor from my school, so I won’t be here much.”

Cora shrugged. “Fine.” 

Stiles glowered at her. “Make yourself at home,” he muttered. 

She twisted to look at him. “Are you being hostile because Mom sent us or to hide the fact that you missed us?”

He stiffened. “I don’t need babysitters. I’ll be in Beacon Hills in a few weeks for the summit.” 

“Yeah,” Cora drawled. “Except someone is killing animals and leaving all the good bits for the police to find.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. 

Isaac tilted his head. “Your neighbors are pretty loud. How do you sleep?”

Badly, and with earplugs most nights. He said, “I tune them out.”

“Huh. Cool.” Isaac leaned back against the couch, tipping his shoulder casually against Cora’s.

Stiles glanced at the clock on his microwave. Technically, he had time. He could join them, watch a couple episodes of _Brooklyn Nine Nine_. He knew Isaac would move over, probably slump down or toss a leg over his. Effortlessly bringing him into the group, like he’d never been apart, like they’d never been mad at him. 

Stiles grabbed his wallet and keys. “I’ll bring pizza for dinner,” he said over his shoulder. 

Cora cheered as he closed the door.

Stiles worked at the Budget & Live Weekly, a magazine with a reputation for articles in all varieties but mostly history, people, cheap travel destinations, and ways to see some of the world on an extreme budget. Stiles was currently writing a piece on some historical buildings that offered tours at night, due to being supposedly haunted. 

He liked to be thorough. He hadn’t _planned_ on writing for a magazine, but he had a knack for storytelling, and the magazine paid for him to go visit the places he wrote about, so he did it. It paid the rent, which was what he needed. 

He also had a pretty loose schedule: as long as his articles were in on time, and he made an appearance every so often, the editors didn’t care if he worked on-site, at home, or at the office. That was useful, because working quietly in a confined space with others was a recipe for disaster. Just-add-Stiles. 

Professor D. Mercier was one of Stiles’s favorite teachers from college. He was the head of the history department and knew enough about the area to be a perfect fount of information, if ever Stiles was in need of sources or even ideas to pitch.

He greeted Stiles as enthusiastically as he usually did. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d found another historian,” he teased. 

Stiles laughed. “No, I’ve just been covering restaurants and food for Jeffery the past week.”

Professor Mercier—Stiles never grew out of calling him that—stepped aside to let Stiles into the house. He lived in an older house with heavy doors and wood floors that smelled like dust and lots of furniture polish more often than not. “So, what is this week’s topic?”

Stiles grinned and followed him to the sitting room. “Guided tours? I’m trying to find something for a group to do, and I saw a tour for the Haunted Row of Samson. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes. I’ve got a journal written by one of the original homeowners.” He grinned when Stiles fist pumped. “I read your article about taking advantage of free historical sites. The line about group discounts is what prompted this one, right?”

Stiles laughed and rubbed a hand over his head. “Yeah, it did. Charles loved it, so we’re doing a group theme this week, all departments.” 

Professor Mercier shook his head. “You’re very talented. You should be editor-in-chief in no time.” He went to a bookshelf and rifled through until he found a decrepit journal. “It’s quite old, but should have some good insider sneak peeks for your readers.” He held it out until Stiles took it.

“Thanks.” Stiles ran his thumb over the worn leather cover. “I don’t know about EIC; this pays the bills, but my favorite part is the research.”

“I never would have guessed.” He went to sit on the couch.

Stiles sat in the chair he always sat in, near the door and window. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve been thinking about turning to private investigation. I like investigating, and researching. Plus, I’m pretty good at getting into other people’s business.”

“You’d be impressive. Let me know if you decide,” he added, shifting his weight slightly. He was a slim, wiry man, exuding confidence and power. “I have some friends who could help you get started.”

Stiles snickered. “You have friends everywhere.”

“Well, I’m old, Mr. Stilinski,” he said dryly. “That’s how it works.” He smiled. “How was your weekend?”

Stiles thought about sleepwalking, Laura having to drive him home, vivid dreams that he remembered until he tried to describe them. “Uneventful. So. Tell me about the Haunted Row!” He pulled out a notebook and a pen—he always preferred keeping a written copy of his notes.

Professor Mercier smiled. “The whole street was built in the sixties,” he began.

Stiles left with several pages worth of information, a promise to return the journal in top condition, and a small headache. He was pretty sure it was all the floor polish Mercier used; it tended to leave Stiles feeling dazed and sometimes slow, groggy. 

He felt better as he picked up the pizzas, two large meat-lovers, breadsticks, and chicken wings, because three werewolves would barely feel a single pizza, and finally felt wide awake again as he got home.

Isaac was laying on the rickety coffee table, arms out at his sides, when Stiles walked in. Cora was balancing things on him. She set a bottle of ketchup on his forehead before glancing up at Stiles. “We got bored.” She wrinkled her nose. “Who were you—did you get breadsticks?”

“Yep. Come on, move so we can eat.”

Isaac sat up, sending several condiments, dishes, and knickknacks crashing to the floor. “Sorry! Nothing broke,” he added quickly.

They played a few rounds of Mario Kart after eating, killing time. Stiles got up after round three, stepped out the front door, and stood in the hall, blinking. He furrowed his brow, staring at the door across from him and realized he’d forgotten what he was doing. He shook his head and went back inside. 

After Rainbow Road, he brushed crumbs off his jeans and went to the hall, keys in hand, and froze at the top of the stairs. He scowled, studying the keys he was holding. Did he forget something in the car? He shook himself and went back inside, ignoring Isaac’s puzzled stare. 

The third time he came back inside, Cora burst out, “Dude, _what_ are you doing?!” She bounced in place, waggling her controller impatiently.

He shook his head. “I don’t remember.” He sat down and grabbed his own controller. “I keep forgetting,” he said as the race started. “I’ll go out here, sure of what I need to do, and then I’ll forget.”

Isaac leaned into him, tilting his controller. “I—damn it, Cora!—I heard that’s caused by doorways. Apparently it happens to a lot of people. Their brains go blank when they walk through doorways.” He cursed when Cora rammed into him, sending him off the track.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. As soon as his racer flew over the finish line, he popped to his feet and went into the hallway. Paused. Glared at the cream painted walls. “Ugh!” It was probably just the volatile ADHD-lycanthropy mixture he had going on. Stuff like this had been happening a lot since he’d been turned. He rubbed the back of his neck again, rolling his head. It felt sore, like he’d slept on it wrong. He went back inside. “Get ready to have your asses kicked, losers.” 

Cora booed him loudly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, they're so nice and they make me so happy. <3

Derek pulled his leg up onto his chair, leaning forward as he scribbled out a note. He sighed. Dropped his leg. He stretched both legs out and braced his feet against the wall in front of his desk. Wrote two lines. Shifted his weight. Three more lines.

He sat up straight and rolled his shoulders, sighing again. He dropped his feet back to the floor and corrected his posture before he got back to work. He shuffled his feet against the carpet.

“Derek!” Peter shouted. “Stop! You’re driving me nuts!” 

“I’m not doing anything!” he snapped.

“You’re _fidgeting_,” Erica accused. She sounded like she was in her own room.

“I’m not doing anything,” he repeated. He looked at the lines of Italian he was making notes for, then his notepad. All of it looked like gibberish to him. He stood and stretched, then headed downstairs.

Talia came inside from the side door. Her jaw was tight, eyes gleaming. “I’ve found more animals,” she said stiffly.

Derek tensed. “Where?”

“Getting closer to our property. I think.” She inhaled sharply. “I think there’s a wolf in our territory, but I’m not sure.” She looked around, gaze glancing off the counters and cabinets. She bared her teeth like the house was a cage. 

Derek crossed his arms. “What do we do?”

“We need to find them and run them out. If they won’t go, we kill them.” She flexed her hands. “It’s happened before in the past. We all know how it goes.”

Derek nodded. They’d had a couple…_mutts_ the summer before. 

Peter, Stiles, and Erica had taken care of it when they made it clear they wouldn’t leave or submit to Talia to join the pack. It was only two, or they might’ve needed help. As it was, they took care of it themselves. 

“I’ll get patrols scheduled, see if we can…” She tipped her head. “Oh, what _now_?” She stomped past him.

Derek heard it a second later: three vehicles pulling up to the house, radios crackling. He heard Sheriff Stilinski’s voice and stiffened. He followed Talia to the front door. 

They waited on the porch together. 

Sheriff Stilinski got out of his car. “Sorry about this,” he said quietly, so the deputies couldn’t hear him. “Remember your rights. We have no warrants.”

Talia’s hands twitched. 

Derek’s brows furrowed. _Warrants?_ Why the hell…He looked down at the deputies.

They were tense and shocked. One of them was compartmentalizing as he watched, pulling herself together. The other was not quite so skilled at hiding his emotions.

“Can we help you, Sheriff?” Talia called, lifting a hand to wave. 

“Yes, I hope so.” He and the other deputies stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Two hikers discovered a body in the preserve this morning.”

Derek kept his face still as he absorbed that. He couldn’t help his gaze flicking to Talia, nerves making his skin feel too tight. 

“Unfortunately, they had strayed off the marked, public paths and wandered onto private property. But since a body was found…”

“You’d like to search the rest of my property,” Talia finished. 

“We’re bringing CSI to determine what happened,” Sheriff Stilinski said. “We’ll need to remove the body, possibly search the area to determine where and how the victim was killed.”

“We’d like to search your house, Mrs. Hale,” a deputy blurted. “Just as a precaution.”

She fixed him with an icy look. “A precaution for _what_, Deputy? No,” she said firmly. “You may not search my house without a warrant. But of course, you’re more than welcome to search the property. You know how to reach me, Sheriff,” she added with a nod.

Derek hastily opened the door and went inside. 

Talia stepped in and closed the door. She gestured at Derek to wait.

“What the _hell_ are you doing, Deputy Blithely?” 

“Why won’t she let us search her house if she has nothing to hide?” 

“Because it is her right to refuse to allow us to search her home unless we have a warrant or probable cause. The Hales are not suspects.” Sheriff Stilinski sounded _pissed_, and Derek almost felt bad for the deputy he was snarling at.

“But the body-”

“Looked like it was torn apart by an animal, not a person, Deputy. And at best, we have permission to search the property because of that. Unless we want to accuse the Hales of ripping apart some woman, I think you’re out of line.”

“Sheriff-” he protested.

“Exercising rights as a citizen does not prove guilt. Deputy Erikson, please go meet up with CSI. Blithely, I want you to head back to the station and man the desk. Keep an eye out for our victim in Missing Persons.” 

Talia sighed.

“Mutt?”

She nodded. “Has to be. No other predator is going to get this close to us, or leave…” She grimaced. “Leave that much to be found.” She looked toward the living room. “We’ll have to wait until they clear out, then I want everyone out searching. I’m going to send Peter and Erica now.” She left him by the door. 

Derek tipped his head back. He hoped it was just one mutt. But they weren’t usually so bold as to kill someone in Hale territory when they were alone. Even two seemed like too few to get this close. He hoped, but he knew he was wrong. 

Sheriff Stilinski returned a few hours later. He spoke to Talia and Adam on the porch. “Crime Scene determined she was killed elsewhere and dragged. They think an animal killed her, but couldn’t carry her back to somewhere safe to eat.”

“What do you need us to do?”

Sheriff Stilinski sighed. “No one is looking at you yet, not seriously. So let’s try to keep any more bodies from turning up in your woods and go from there.”

“We’re sending the pack out to search,” Talia said. “As soon as your guys are cleared out.” 

“Thanks. I’ll keep them away. Keep me updated?”

“Of course.”

Derek and Boyd were paired up. They were sent to where the body had been found. 

Peter, Erica, and Isaac were in town, checking for strangers and scents. 

“Ugh.” Boyd shifted back to human. “Blood. Death. Gross.”

Derek looked around. He sifted through scents until he found it—strange werewolf, desperation and confusion mixed in under the scent of the victim. He followed the trail away from Boyd. 

“Hey!” He swore. “Fuck. I’ve got two wolves here.”

Derek shifted back. “I have one over this way. Come see if it’s one of yours.”

Boyd went to him carefully, trying not to cross any of the scent trails. He inhaled deeply. “_Fuck._ No, that’s a different one.”

Derek looked around, suddenly feeling surrounded, though he knew that there wasn’t anyone else around. “Three? What kind of morons-”

“Mutts,” Boyd said flatly. “No alpha, no anchor, no pack.” He shrugged. 

“Or a pack looking for new territory.” Derek rubbed his mouth. “Could be setting up for a territory dispute. Then they have an alpha and they aren’t disorganized.” 

“What does that mean?”

Derek wasn’t sure. It hadn’t happened since he was a kid, too young to be involved. “Let’s tell Mom, see what she thinks.”

Peter was already back when they got home. “Found at least four distinct wolf scents.”

“_Four?_” Derek blurted. 

Talia looked at him. “How many did you find?”

“Three.”

“At least four means these might not be wanderers, Talia,” Peter said fiercely. “Could be a pack looking for a fight.” 

She flexed her hands at her sides. “I know. Alright. We’re calling everyone home. We need the whole pack together.”

Derek looked down. Fuck.

Talia was watching him when he looked up. 

He grimaced.

“I know, but until he truly rejects the bond, he’s part of this pack, and we’re stronger together. We’ll just have to resolve this quickly. Plus,” she sighed, “he’s good at this.” She went to get her phone. 

Peter kept staring at Derek. 

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll keep him busy,” he added, which, from Peter, was a heartfelt gift. 

“Thanks,” Derek murmured.   



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments <3

The phone call was short and firm. Stiles _would_ be returning to Beacon Hills as part of the pack. The unspoken _unless you’d rather not be_ hung heavy in the air. As awful as being turned against his will was, being without a pack seemed worse. 

So Stiles packed a bag and took some personal time off from work. He tossed his bag into the jeep and just stood beside it. He glowered and kicked the tire.

He didn’t want to go.

It felt like his body was being weighed down, rooting him in place. 

He wanted to go. He felt the pull toward his pack, his alpha, like a tide, gentle but insistent. He lowered his head, gripping the jeep’s door. 

His feet shifted restlessly against the pavement. He could go back inside. Stay here, stay close…

He swallowed. His hand flexed on the door. 

_Get home as soon as possible._ Talia’s order rang in his head. 

He shook himself and pried his hand off the door, one finger at a time. “Fuck.” He smoothed out the hand-shaped dent. He didn’t even know why he was resisting. His dad was in Beacon Hills, and even _if_ he hated that they didn’t care about his choice being taken away, he didn’t _want_ the pack to be hurt. 

He got in the jeep. Started it. Stared up at his building. “_Ugh._” He backed out of the parking spot and got to driving. 

It took him twenty minutes to realize he was driving north, rather than south, toward Beacon Hills. 

“Goddamn it!” He slammed his fist against the passenger seat. 

It reclined completely flat from the force. 

“Fuck!” He tried to sit it back up, but he’d obviously broken something. It fell back. He left the seat alone and found a place to turn around. Fucking werewolfisms. It was probably some bullshit instinct about leaving _his_ territory; he always felt a little conflicted going back to Beacon Hills, especially this close to the full moon. He felt compelled to stay, by _something_, whatever that something was, but he also felt the pull toward Talia.

Talia’s pull was stronger, but only just. 

Stiles got to the Hale house that evening. He sat in the driveway, nerves eating him up inside. He wasn’t ready to see Derek. He was still _pissed_ at him. He swallowed and turned off the jeep. He reached into the back for his bag. The broken passenger seat caught his eye and made him grimace. He sighed, grabbed his bag, and got out. He stared up at the house, then glanced down. There were no windows for the basement on this side of the house, but he knew it was there. He’d spent a couple weeks down there, after all.

The front door opened. 

Erica and Boyd rushed out. “You’re home!” Erica threw her arms around him. “That took forever, Talia said she called this morning!” 

“Heh, yeah. I had to deal with work, uh, stuff.”

She let go and stepped back. “Come on, Laura wants to feed you and Adam made like _gallons_ of beef stew.”

Boyd nodded at him. He was Derek’s best friend, so Stiles was never surprised that he kept his distance most of the time. 

The pack mobbed him as he came in, each of them bumping him or rubbing his head or shoulder. 

They cleared when Talia came over. She lifted a brow. 

He swallowed. “It was hard to leave,” he admitted quietly. 

“So why did you?” Her tone was even and not cruel, but Stiles still flinched. Talia had helped him a lot, but she’d been clear from the start—being part of the pack was his choice. She wouldn’t force him to stay, because if he didn’t want to be a part of it, they didn’t want him, either. 

“Because it was harder not to.” His shoulders sagged and he tipped forward. “I missed you,” he muttered against her shoulder. “I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions and I’m tired.” 

She palmed the back of his neck.

His muscles relaxed. 

“We’ll talk about that later. First, come listen. We have a situation.”

He straightened up. “Okay.”

Cora and Erica sat on either side of him on the couch, with Isaac beside Cora and Laura next to Erica. 

Derek and Peter weren’t there.

Stiles looked around, doing a head count. “Wait. Is Jackson with Peter?”

Talia shook her head. “Jackson is the youngest, and he’s away at school. If he were closer, I’d have called him back. As it is, he doesn’t _need_ to be here yet.”

Stiles glowered. Why did _he_ have to come home then?

Cora elbowed him hard. 

He looked up at Talia.

“There are at least four strange wolves in our territory,” she said. “That many means it could be a pack, wanting to start a territory dispute. They’ve killed a human. Tomorrow, we’re going to split into pairs and find them.”

“Why not tonight?” Erica bared her teeth.

“Full moon,” Stiles answered, watching Talia’s face. “They’ll be hunkered down because they’ll think we’re more likely to attack full force on the moon.” 

Talia nodded. “And if they are mutts, they’ll find us in the woods tonight.”

Erica hummed. “If they do, we could get this over with.” She flashed her claws. 

Stiles couldn’t see even four mutts attacking an entire pack on the full moon, when they were at their most…unreserved. They just weren’t strong enough.

“Stiles, get something to eat. We’ll be going out in an hour or two. Everyone else, get ready. Laura, go get Peter.”

Adam grabbed Stiles in a hug as he stood. “Missed you, kid. It just isn’t the same, getting work done without fielding twenty questions per step.” He grinned and stepped back. “Come on, there’s stew.”

Stiles heard Peter’s muffled voice coming up from the basement, and a low, familiar rumble. His heart squeezed. He bolted after Adam to hide in the kitchen. He could hide until it was time to change. It was a small comfort.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The misunderstanding is obviously a big part of the plot, so I'm just letting you all know now that it's not going to be solved for a while x) Sorry, and thank you for your comments.

He wouldn’t admit it—especially not with Derek around to hear—but Stiles loved shifting. He loved shrugging off his skin and tumbling into his fur, stretching his muscles and racing around. It was even better here, because the pack was nearby and he didn’t have to pretend to be anything except what he was. 

He endured the pack bumping their snouts all over him, sniffing and snorting at whatever scents they caught, then raced over to Erica. He bowled her over, batting at her ears. 

She snapped at his throat, teeth grazing his fur, and rolled over on top of him. She licked a stripe up his throat to his nose, making him snarl indignantly. She hacked a laugh and bounced off of him. 

They both looked over as Talia crept by, ears tipped forward. She was tense and low to the ground, her footsteps silent.

Stiles rolled to his feet, fell back next to Cora, and followed. 

They caught a doe and began eating. Talia and Adam ate first, and Stiles eyed the remains while everyone else filed forward to eat their portion. The doe wasn’t very big, maybe old or sickly. 

Wouldn’t be enough to feed everyone. Stiles playfully stole a bite from Erica, knocked into Peter, and trotted off to find his own meal. 

Footsteps followed him, quiet but not stealthy. He looked back. 

Cora and Derek were on his flanks. They didn’t bother looking apologetic or mournful. Cora’s tongue lolled out for a moment, flicking over her muzzle hungrily.

Stiles huffed and turned back around. It wasn’t like he was going to scare them off. 

They found a fat hare, which was more than enough to hold them over for now. Shifting burned a lot of energy.

Stiles growled when Derek nosed at his piece of meat, flattening his ears and baring his teeth. 

Derek backed off, turning and flicking his tail over Stiles’s nose as he walked away. 

Stiles snapped at it, then went back to his meal. He hated it, _hated_ it, but he was still in love with Derek. He could feel it so clearly like this, when he didn’t have to push it down to keep it off his face. He just couldn’t get over how Derek’s betrayal tore him apart and remade him. 

Cora and Isaac bounced around him until he played with them. He and Cora played tug with a branch they both wanted until Isaac ran between them, mouth open wide, and stole the branch from the middle. 

Stiles yelped, then snarled at the indignity.

Cora tore after him, fur fluffed up with rage. 

Erica chuffed and went back to licking blood from Boyd’s muzzle, as if she was above such games. 

Stiles circled around behind them; he knew Erica was keeping her gaze on him, but Boyd was ignoring him as usual. He lowered onto his belly and crept forward. Pause. Forward. Pause.

Boyd’s ears twitched and Stiles tensed, heart hammering, paws pressing down hard against the dirt.

Erica swiped her tongue over Boyd’s ears affectionately, pretending she wasn’t watching Stiles move ever closer on his belly.

Stiles darted in and bit Boyd’s haunch. 

Boyd yowled and shot to his feet, then whipped around, snarling open-mouthed. 

Stiles ran. He heard Boyd racing after him, but he didn’t look back. He leaped over a fallen tree and yelped when he splashed into a creek.

Boyd tackled him. 

They rolled. Stiles got a nose-full of water and stood, coughing and snorting. 

Boyd bumped him, then bit his ear just hard enough to make him yelp. 

He pulled away and snapped at Boyd’s muzzle.

Boyd stared him in the eye as he slowly dropped a heavy paw on his head. The force nearly knocked Stiles over. 

They all raced around for hours, playing and wrestling and annoying each other.

Stiles finally collapsed at some point, panting and exhausted. He didn’t even move when Derek crept up beside him. He flicked his ears to let him know he wasn’t being stealthy, but didn’t fight it when Derek nuzzled under his neck, then licked at his ears. He closed his eyes. 

After a minute, Derek whined and curled up behind him. 

Something pinched. 

Stiles’s eyes opened. Someone had him by the scruff of the neck, shaking him awake. He squirmed free, panting, and turned.

Talia lowered her head, peering into his face. 

He looked around. He’d nearly made it out of the preserve and to the road. He whimpered, crouching and pinning his ears. 

Talia nudged him and flicked her tongue over his head. 

He whined, still breathing hard through his open mouth.

Talia waited with him, licking his head and worrying twigs and bramble out of his fur.

Adam approached. His fur was a distinct chestnut color—somewhere between red and brown—so he was always easy to pick out. He nudged Stiles to his feet. 

When they got back to the pack, Adam and Talia curled tight around Stiles, like they were holding him in place. 

He laid his head on Adam’s shoulder and shut his eyes. He didn’t understand why this kept happening.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! <3 //previous chapter's a/n was just to make sure everyone was aware; I'm not practiced at mystery or misunderstandings, and being impatient and kind of blunt myself, I figured some people would appreciate a warning. <3 <3 <3
> 
> **Edit:**[REBEKAH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebekahdarian/works) FIXED THE CHAPTERS YAY

Derek jumped when Cora asked for someone to help with the dishes. He’d been sitting as far from Stiles as he could at the table, but it was just…too much.

So he helped Cora get the dishes to the sink and began scrubbing. They had a dishwasher, but it could only hold about a quarter of the dishes they used for breakfast. 

Derek was all too happy to have something to do and keep busy.

Cora handed him a plate. “You guys seemed to get along okay last night,” she murmured under the blast of the faucet. 

He snorted. “Yeah, it was great. He _tolerated_ me.” 

Stiles had done what he always did when he visited on the full moon—let his instincts take over, enjoyed the pack, eventually tolerated Derek’s presence. Like Derek and his family were the ones who were in the wrong. 

“I mean…” She sighed and scrubbed at a bowl. “I don’t know what I mean.” 

Derek focused on the dishes, until he heard Talia’s voice rise sharply. 

“There’s _what?_” 

He stopped washing and tipped his head.

“_A werewolf in the liquor store._” Sheriff Stilinski’s voice was almost amused, definitely exasperated.

“The liquor…Marv’s liquor store?” Talia came into the kitchen, her face baffled. “Why?” 

“_No clue. Marv called me, thinking it was some tweaker. I’m keeping people away, but I need your help. The guy’s freaking out._”

“We’ll be there soon. Keep everyone away.” She hung up. “Peter, Laura, come with me.”

Erica poked her head in. “Why not us?”

“Just one, might need an alpha. Plus, we’ve got Peter,” Talia added. 

Peter tugged the end of Erica’s hair. “We’ll call if we need back up.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Boyd, wanna patrol the woods?” 

Talia glanced at Derek, then away. “Stay by the phone.”

Cora looked at him and shrugged. 

Stiles was still in the dining room when Derek walked out. He was wearing baggy sweats and a t-shirt, one leg curled up under him while he wrote on a notepad. His brows furrowed as he scribbled. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.

He used to wear glasses to do that, when he was human. He didn’t need them often, so he tended to forget he was wearing them and would run into things. They messed with his depth perception when walking.

Derek grimaced and dropped his gaze. 

Stiles’s phone began to ring. “Yeah, Dad?” His phone was set at the lowest volume, so Derek couldn’t hear what Sheriff Stilinski was saying without listening harder. Stiles dropped his foot to the floor and straightened up. He looked over his shoulder and swore. “No, yeah, she left it here. Boyd’s is in the couch, like fuckin’ usual.” He looked up, noticed Derek. “Yeah, we’re coming,” he said flatly. 

“Get dressed,” Derek said. “I’ll get the car.” He went outside before Stiles could say anything.

Two minutes later, Stiles dropped into the passenger seat. He’d put on jeans with old dirt, grass, and blood stains, and an old t-shirt that had his scent deeply sunk into it. He held himself rigid as he buckled in, conveying his feelings about this quite succinctly. 

“One of the others could have come,” Stiles snapped, finally breaking his icy silence as they reached the edge of town.

Derek’s hands tensed on the steering wheel. “If you hate being pack so much-”

“It isn’t the _pack_ I have a _problem_ with,” he spat. 

The sting of that made Derek hate him, just as much as he loved him. He shook his head and didn’t reply.

Sheriff Stilinski was outside with Laura when they got within sight of the liquor store. Laura looked anxious, rocking forward on the balls of her feet, hands curled into loose claws at her sides.

Inside, there were crashing noises, snarls, and high whines.

“Might want to go around back, boys,” Sheriff Stilinski said when he noticed the car pulling up. He didn't bother raising his voice, well aware of how easily they could hear him. His face went tense. “We’re guarding the front, but if they get away…” 

Derek whipped into the parking lot.

Stiles threw his door open and jumped out, making Derek swear and slam on the brakes. 

Glass shattered, tinkling onto pavement and then crunching under a shoe as someone took off running behind the liquor store.

Stiles bared his teeth and bolted, flying past Laura and his father without a backwards glance. 

Derek threw the car into park, yanked the keys out, and raced after him. _Moron._ He caught up in time to see whoever they were chasing run out of sight. 

Stiles cut down an alley, leaped over a trash can, and scaled a chain link fence. He clambered to the top and jumped off. He landed on his feet with a heavy _thump_, then tore after their prey.

Derek rolled his eyes and threw himself at the fence. As he jumped over to the other side, he saw Stiles whip around a corner. He rolled his eyes and ran after him.

The two wolves they were chasing smelled off—sick and sweaty, a little like blood.

Stiles cornered them in a dead-end alley. 

They turned on him, fangs bared.

Derek stumbled to a stop at the opening of the alley. They were _new_, he realized with shock. Barely out of their first shift, eyes still fever-bright. 

The bigger one snarled as he sized Stiles up, then, noticing Derek, went tense, his eyes wheeling for an escape route. 

“Who’s your alpha?” Stiles asked. 

The wolves growled. They were barely looking at him, their bodies angled toward Derek, hunched over and half shifted in defense.

“Hey! I’m talking to you.” Stiles rolled his eyes and stepped closer to them, briefly drawing their attention as he became the closer threat. “Who. Is. Your. Alpha?”

More inhuman growling. 

The bigger one glanced at Derek again. 

Stiles sighed. He walked up to the wolf, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed his face into his knee.

He snarled and swung his fist wildly. 

Stiles dodged neatly and caught his arm, then twisted it unnaturally off to the side until his forearm broke. “Sit down. Shut up.” He shoved him down on his ass. 

He cradled his arm, breathing heavily with pain and flicking his gaze rapidly between Derek at the mouth of the alley and Stiles standing over him.

The other wolf looked at Stiles and licked his lips as sweat beaded on his forehead and under his nose. His gaze wavered.

Stiles grabbed him and slammed him into the building to their left. “Who’s your alpha?” he snarled. His fangs slid out between his snarling lips, his eyes turning gold as he slipped into a partial shift.

The wolf shook his head. 

“Mutt,” Stiles muttered. 

Before Derek could shout a warning or even move, Stiles whipped around and caught the haymaker the other wolf threw. He turned around, still holding his arm. “Look, you’re clearly under a misconception.” He flexed his hand.

Bone crunched. The wolf howled.

Stiles jerked his head at Derek, still squeezing the mutt’s broken wrist. “He’s bigger, but I’m meaner, I promise you.”

The wolf swung with his other arm.

Stiles dodged and lunged, dropping the wolf to the ground. He dug claws into his throat and squeezed until blood trailed down his neck to pool on the already filthy cement. “Your options are to leave,” Stiles said pleasantly, “or die.” His head whipped up at the other wolf. “I suggest you leave.” He smiled, baring fangs. “But it’ll be so much fun if you don’t.”

“We’ll leave,” he gasped. “We’ll leave, we swear.” 

The bigger one lunged, fangs snapping an inch from Stiles’s throat. 

Derek tensed to leap.

Stiles pressed him back down. His claws dug deeper into his throat.

High, terrified whines escaped him.

“Yeah,” Stiles growled. “Rethink that. Or I could tear it out.” 

“Fine,” he rasped. “We’re going.”

Stiles yanked his claws free and stood. “Go. If I get your scent here again, I’ll kill you.” He sniffed the blood on his claws and smiled wide. “Already got it memorized.” 

They both fled. 

Derek watched them go. He hated that Stiles made such a good werewolf, considering how much he hated being one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy! I wanted to get this chapter out of the way on a day when I'll be at work with barely any internet access lol <3 I'm glad everyone seemed to enjoy wolfish Stiles because soon...soon. C:

Talia let Stiles go home once the mutts were off Hale territory. The two he’d fought and the one she and Peter chased out of the liquor store seemed to be the problem. Problem eliminated, so Stiles got to leave. 

Which was good, because he had an article to write about any historical site of his choosing, as long as he kept it within a certain price range. The Budget & Live Weekly was all about fun on a budget. 

He passed out in his bed for two hours when he got home and woke up feeling refreshed. He always felt clear-headed and relaxed the day after the full moon. He got the best sleep then, too. 

Just another way forced lycanthropy was screwing up his life.

Stiles tried to research historical tours, places to visit nearby, but most of it sounded boring, or was too far away. He grabbed his phone and dialed. “Hey, Professor,” he said brightly. “I have an article to write, but I’m drawing a blank on subjects. Do you think…”

Mercier chuckled. “_You want to use my library?_” 

Stiles laughed. “Uh, yeah. If you’re not busy! I can always go to the public library, see if they have anything that’ll help.”

“_No, no, don’t do that. I’ve always got time for you. I do have a meeting that may run a little long, but come on over. You can just set up in the library._”

“Thanks, Professor,” he said. “I saw this week’s assignment and went blank.” 

“_Oh, it happens to all of us. We’ll find something for you to write about._” 

Stiles got to Mercier’s house at one pm, hoping that he wasn’t interrupting any important work, but also sort of hoping that even if he was, he could still quietly use the library. 

Mercier greeted him at the door. “You were out of town for a couple days,” he said, eyes gleaming. 

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, had to visit my dad. How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess. How is your father?” He led Stiles through the house.

Floor polish burned his nose. “He’s okay. Gets a little bored, I guess small town cops don’t get much action.”

Mercier laughed. “I would guess not.” He opened the door to his personal library and gestured at Stiles to follow him. “You’re more than welcome to use the desk I have in here. I rarely use it.” He switched on a lamp to supplement the sunlight coming in through the windows. 

“Thank you.” Stiles looked at the shelves and sighed, pleased. He’d been here before, using the selection of books on mythology and lore for personal research after he’d been bitten, and the historical books for work, but he never failed to be impressed by the sheer _volume_ of books Mercier had on hand. The wide range of information, readily available, was impressive and enviable. Sure, the internet _could_ provide most of it, but local stuff was much easier to scoop out from printed records. 

Mercier made a low noise. “Let me help you get started.” He went around the room, collecting books as he went, mumbling the titles to himself and stacking them on the desk.

Stiles felt his phone go off and pulled it out, but he didn’t get a chance to look at the screen before Mercier was returning.

“Do you have everything you need?”

Stiles smiled. “Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, really. I appreciate this.”

“Of course.” Mercier folded his hands. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“Great, thank you!” Stiles turned to the books as he walked away, eager to get started, then glanced at his phone.

Laura had asked if he wanted to get coffee. 

The door closed behind Mercier while Stiles was frowning worriedly at the message. He’d just left. Had something happened already? He leaned a hip against the desk and told Laura he’d meet her at the café by his office at three-thirty, which would give him nearly two hours to do some research and thirty minutes to get to the office.

The door creaked.

Stiles looked over his shoulder. 

The door hung partially open, swaying slightly; it probably hadn’t been closed properly. 

The floor creaked to his left. He turned, tensing, but he couldn’t hear anything. He shook his head. The house was old; it was probably just settling. He flicked open the book at the top of the stack, making himself concentrate. 

Stiles jolted. His eyes flashed open. He was slumped over, his cheek stuck to the page of a book he didn’t recognize. He grimaced and sat up slowly, looking around and trying to orient himself. He was behind the desk in Mercier’s library, alone, it seemed, with small piles of open books around his partially filled notepad. His muscles felt stiff, like he’d been in that position for a while. He rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his head.

The windows looked darker than he expected. 

He glanced at his phone and jumped. It was five thirty _and_ he had six texts and four missed calls from Laura, which was alarming. Had something happened with the pack since he’d left?

Mercier came in, brows lifted. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I was gone so long, my meeting ran over what I expected.” His face creased. 

Stiles rubbed his face. “I…” He looked at his phone. “Yeah, I think I…fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Mercier relaxed. “That’s no big deal. You must be tired. Here, take a couple of these home with you, so you can get your article done.” He gathered a couple of books up, picking through them carefully as he went.

“Thanks. Hang on…” He thumbed open the texts, just as a new one came in. 

_Running late?_

_Hello?_

_Stiles, not cool. Where are you?_

_I’m getting worried._

_Stiles, answer me or I’m going to think something is wrong._

_Hello!_

_Stiles, pick up your fucking phone!_

He frowned. “I have to go,” he said slowly. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course,” Mercier said. “You’re welcome back any time.”

“Thanks,” he said absently. He gathered up his stuff in a daze and stumbled through the house without really seeing anything, nose twitching. Outside at the jeep, he called Laura back. He scrubbed at his itchy nose with the palm of his hand while it rang. 

“_Where the fuck are you?_” she snarled. “_Are you hurt?_”

“No…but…why are you calling and texting so much? I just left.” He climbed in and set his books and bag on the (still-broken) passenger seat, then started the jeep. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously.

“_We were supposed to meet at three! You texted me that!_”

He pulled the phone away from his face to frown at it. “No, I didn’t,” he said slowly. “I just left Beacon Hills this morning.”

“_I asked if you wanted to get coffee. You told me to meet you at three-thirty by your office._” 

“No, I didn’t.”

“_Stiles, I am looking at the text messages right now._” She sounded irritated, but the anger was fading into something more fearful.

“Hang on.” He pulled his phone back again and scrolled past her newest messages. 

His heart lurched. 

He _had_ texted her to meet him at three-thirty. 

“I…I…” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I fell asleep. I guess I was tired.” 

Laura’s voice was softer when she spoke. “_Okay. Let’s meet now. We’ll get dinner. My treat._” 

He said, “Okay,” and hung up. He scrolled through their texts, then went and checked the others he had. He didn’t see any other unfamiliar messages, though he hadn’t texted anyone else in days. 

It was a fluke, he told himself. _I’m tired. I just forgot._ He glanced at the books and grimaced. He couldn’t remember doing any research either, though he had notes on his notepad that were in his handwriting. He shook himself. He’d just gotten tired and fallen asleep. It wasn’t unusual. He _did_ need more sleep. 

Laura met him at The Vine, a restaurant near his apartment. She looked tense, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her jacket. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“What happened to you?” she asked warily, eyeing him from a distance. 

“I fell asleep and must have been more tired than I realized, because I didn’t remember texting you. I wasn’t trying to blow you off,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you sure you’re okay? That’s a weird thing to forget…” Her brows creased.

He rolled his shoulders. “I just forgot, okay? It was an accident.” 

She shook her head and grabbed his shoulder to reel him in, hugging him tight. She brushed a hand over his head and shoulder. “I believe you. Also, you stink like some kind of chemical stuff.” She let go and went inside. 

Stiles sighed and followed her. Freaking floor polish.

They got seats on the patio, since it was chilly enough that most humans wanted to sit inside, but not cold enough for the staff to think it was odd that they were sitting there. 

After they’d put their orders in, Laura leaned forward. “I know you’ve got issues, and no one blames you for that,” she said. “But I think we’ve got a problem at home.”

He straightened. “More mutts?”

She shook her head impatiently. “No, it’s not…” She sighed. 

Their waiter, Levi, brought their drinks. “Your food will be right out.”

“Thank you.” Stiles smiled at him, then bared his teeth when he kept staring at Laura. 

She noticed and glanced up at him. “Thanks,” she said loudly and pointedly. 

He flushed and left. 

Stiles nudged her leg with his foot. “If it’s not mutts, what is it?”

She glowered. “I think an alpha is running around Beacon Hills changing people.”

Stiles frowned, brows furrowing. “How do you know-”

“I just have a feeling,” she snapped. “Not all of us ignore our instincts.”

He dropped his gaze, nodding. But still, he wondered…how did she know it was an _alpha_ changing people? Instinct might tell them someone was in their territory, and logic said those mutts came from _somewhere_, but why an alpha? A beta could be running around creating a pack of mutts. Maybe alpha bites looked different? Stiles glanced at his hand, where Derek had bitten him. 

Laura had continued talking while he was distracted. “—know Mom handled it before, but the pack isn’t exactly close-knit at the moment. If we were attacked by a whole pack, what would we do?”

“Kick ass,” Stiles said with a wry smile. “I’ll come back,” he said quietly. “You know I’ll come back if there’s another problem.” 

“There’s _still_ a problem,” she insisted. “_Someone_ changed those three, and they didn’t stick around to teach them anything.”

He nodded. “If Talia calls me, I’ll be there.”

She glared at him, then sighed and slumped in her seat. “Fine. I don’t know what else I was expecting.”

Stiles looked away. He didn’t, either.


	11. Chapter 11

Peter swept Derek’s legs out from under him and leaped out of the way of Derek’s wild swing as he went down, then stared at him.

“Don’t say it,” Derek grumbled as he got up.

“Stop hesitating.” Peter rolled his shoulder. 

“Well, if I were fighting a stranger, I wouldn’t hesitate.” 

“Pretend I’m a stranger,” Peter ordered. “Hit me.”

Derek rushed him. He knew it was stupid, that he’d never catch Peter off guard, but he tried. 

Peter side stepped and clotheslined him, his arm like a steel bar across Derek’s chest. He leaned over him. “Are you even trying?” He clicked his tongue.

“Yes!” Derek got up. “Again.”

“Don’t rush your opponents unless you know you can get to them faster than they can dodge,” Peter said. 

“I got that.”

“Then _remember_ it.” He gestured at Derek to approach. 

Derek went slower this time, watching for any tension in Peter’s body. He swung, nearly hit Peter’s face, and faltered. 

Peter knocked his arm aside and hit him in the nose. “Stop hesitating!” he snapped.

“I can’t help it!” 

“What, you don’t want to hit me?” Peter scoffed, like the idea was insulting. 

“Not really.”

He rolled his eyes.

Derek glowered. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“How’s Stiles?” Peter asked tauntingly. He grinned when Derek bared his teeth. “You get to watch him fight the mutts? Make you want what you can’t have?”

Derek snarled. 

Peter nodded. “Come on. Hit me.”

They were in the dirt, Peter with a bloodied nose and Derek pinned under him, blood in his teeth, when a breeze drifted by. Peter leaped to his feet and swiveled, tracking the unfamiliar scent; the points of his ears elongated as he listened for intruders in their woods.

Derek waited, scenting the air from the ground. “Wolf,” he grunted. He shot to his feet and tore off into the trees. 

Peter caught up to him easily. 

Derek could hear the strange wolf moving around, muttering. He leaped over some bushes, hooked a left, and jumped over the creek. He felt a branch scratch his cheek and ducked aside a second too late, a thin stream of blood trailing down his jaw. 

A soft _thump_ made the hair on the back of Derek’s neck raise. 

He bore down, leaping up and over a tangle of fallen branches, then cut left in front of a tree with scratches in the bark. He could hear someone breathing ahead. He inhaled and skidded to a stop, gagging on the stench of decay.

Peter flew by, either not noticing or not caring that something was dead nearby. He collided with a dark haired woman and snapped his teeth into her shoulder while she was still trying to regain her footing.

There was a _body_ laid out at their feet. 

Derek darted in to check, but he knew it was futile. There was no heartbeat, no breath, no life. He rolled the body over.

It was a young man about Stiles’s age, brown hair like Stiles, fair, dead. 

Derek’s heart stopped. _Not Stiles, not Stiles, he’s fine._

Black bile dribbled around the man’s mouth, ears, and nose. Bite rejection. Alpha.

Peter snarled as he fought to keep the alpha from running. The scent of fresh blood filled the air, then Peter cursed and the ground shook. The alpha had him pinned in the dirt under one foot, roaring in his face. 

Derek surged up and ran. He tackled the alpha from the side and dug his claws into her arm as they hit the ground, then dragged her kicking and snarling away from Peter.

Peter lunged, snapping his teeth next to Derek’s face. 

The alpha swung her fist, punching the side of Derek’s head and throwing him off of her.

He hit the ground and bounced back up, using his momentum to punch her hard across the face.

She roared.

Peter grabbed her by the throat. “Who are you?” He had blood all over his mouth, deep gouges running down the length of his cheek, a cut running back into his hair and over his scalp.

She growled, a low rising noise, and grabbed Peter’s wrist. She yanked it away from her throat and bent it back sharply, snapping his forearm.

Peter howled and lunged at her, claws extended. 

Derek grabbed her by the hair and pulled, bending her neck back sharply. 

She ripped herself away and kicked him in the chest with one violent turn.

He slammed into a tree, two of his ribs breaking with a sharp _crack_.

Peter ran by, roaring and hunched over, bracing to leap. 

Derek grunted and hurtled after him, ignoring the waves of pain from his ribs. 

The alpha whipped around, grabbed Peter by the throat, and tossed him like a ragdoll.

He crashed through branches. 

Derek looked at Peter, then the alpha, heart racing. He rushed at the alpha.

She side stepped.

Derek altered his path, ramming his shoulder into her chest, the crack of her collarbone loud in his ear.  
She flew off her feet, landing several yards away on her back. She rumbled furiously, struggling to get up. 

Derek ran to her and arched his arm back to swipe at her throat. 

She lunged straight up, knocking his arm to the side and digging her teeth into his shoulder. Blood gushed down her chin and jaw.

He cried out and threw himself away, ripping her teeth out of his arm and leaving gouges.

She ran.

“Derek,” Peter snapped before he could chase her. “Go tell Talia about her. I need to report the body.” 

Derek glanced back, wincing.

Peter walked toward him and pulled his arm straight, a grimace crossing his face as the bones ground together. “Go,” he ordered. 

Derek ran back to the house.

Laura was in the backyard. “Hey. Did you and Peter get too rough?” She frowned. “What’s that smell?”

“Where’s Mom?”

“Dining room.” She stepped out of his way. 

Derek ran, nearly colliding with Talia as she was heading toward him. 

“What is it?”

“Alpha. She was dumping a body on our property. He died of bite rejection. Peter’s reporting it now.”

Talia swore, quiet and vicious. “That explains the out-of-control betas. What the hell is she trying to accomplish?” She shook her head. “If she’s still turning people, we need everyone here to round them up. She’s clearly not keeping track of them. We’ll need to question them, find out who she is, why she’s here. We need everyone home,” she muttered. 

Derek held back a grimace and nodded gamely. “We can all pair off.”

“Right. Laura, Cora! Round everyone up! Now!” Talia called. “Someone call Stiles. We’ll need him.”


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles took a leave of absence from the magazine, citing a family emergency. He could still turn in an article or two from home, but he would be too busy to put all of his attention on writing. He arrived at the Hale house late in the evening.

Peter greeted him outside. “We’re going out later. Just you, me, and Erica. Unpack, then dress appropriately.” He knocked twice on the jeep’s hood before walking away.

Stiles grabbed his three bags and headed inside. His usual room—he refused to call it _his_ room, although no one else ever used it—was on the first floor. He’d never seen a house quite like the Hales’, except perhaps owned by millionaires and he still wasn’t over it.

Talia had explained that packs tended to buy land and build large houses, over the course of generations. They liked to be together. 

There were five bedrooms on the first floor, five on the second. The basement was home to several rooms as well, but they were more like cells. Talia and Adam shared the master bedroom on the first floor, while Peter had commandeered the one on the second. 

Stiles dumped his bags on the bed. He sniffed and frowned; normally, no one came in this room unless he was here and invited them in. Now it smelled like someone had been in here. He made himself shrug it off; it _was_ a guest room. He pulled out his clothes to put away, sifting through work and research clothes, pajamas and leisure clothes, until he found what he was looking for. 

He had several sets of jeans and t-shirts he considered _pack_ clothes, things that were too ripped or stained or both from fights, play and real, or being tossed aside on the way into the woods. 

He pulled on a pair of jeans with a rust-colored stain on the left knee and a rip on the right leg, then yanked on a t-shirt. The shirt was black, but he could still see where the stains were. He switched his city sneakers for the ones he wore with the pack, beat up and stained but broken-in and comfortable as a result.

He moved his laptop to the desk, glanced around the room, and left to find Peter.

They took Peter’s car for the first half of the trip. Erica drove, Peter navigated, and Stiles waited. 

“Band’s back together,” Erica commented. 

Stiles couldn’t help smiling. Like it or not, he was a wolf now, and he had a taste for blood he only indulged with the pack. “Should be fun.”

“Remember we need them to talk to us,” Peter said. He was staring out his window. “Don’t kill anyone before they do.”

Erica scoffed. “Why would we do that?”

He inhaled quietly. “Because the first body wasn’t in bite rejection.”

Stiles flinched. “Then how’d they die?”

“Animal attack, officially.” He didn’t look at either of them. “She had been gnawed on. By something big.”

They fell silent.

Stiles’s claws prickled through his jeans. 

They left the car in a Target parking lot and ran from there, well and truly leaving Hale territory. Stiles and Erica raced each other, slipping into partial shifts, snapping their fangs and trying to trip each other up.

Peter allowed it. Where they were going, it was better to embrace the wolf. 

The clan was bigger than Stiles remembered. Spread out at the base of a mountain, they were aware of Stiles, Peter, and Erica as soon as they entered the woods around them. 

Some were in wolf form, others human or partial; they all watched them.

Stiles stood at Peter’s left, Erica his right. 

“We need information,” Peter said. He was speaking to the group as a whole. There were no alphas here, no ranks.

They were mutts, half-feral and all animal. They lived on the border between Hale and Ito territory. The Hales made sure no one messed with them, and they in turn gave information when requested. They saw everything, living as they did. 

Erica stepped up when a wolf ventured too close, baring her teeth in warning.

The wolf pinned its ears and backed off.

“Have you gotten any new members recently?” Peter asked. 

Stiles looked over the group. “Maybe had an alpha come recruiting?”

Growls rose, eyes flashing gold in the dark.

Stiles let his fangs drop and curled his lip.

“Any man-eaters?” Erica asked, head tilting. “We need to know.”

A gray wolf shifted in front of them and looked at Peter automatically. He wasn’t part of a pack, but he had been once. He understood the dynamics. “Get ahold of your pups,” he growled. 

Erica sauntered up to him and held a claw under his chin. “You first,” she purred. Her eyes flicked toward the wolves circling them. 

The man made a rumbling growl under his breath.

The wolves backed off.

Erica eased back to Peter’s side. Her eyes gleamed with a promise of retribution for the “pup” comment. 

“We had an alpha come through,” the man said.

Stiles met the eyes of a red wolf creeping toward them. He flashed his eyes and bared his teeth.

She bared hers back, then lowered onto her haunches. Her ears flicked left, toward the mountain, and held his gaze.

“And?” Peter prompted.

“And he was recruiting. Older guy, kinda pompous. Stuffy. Know it all.” 

Stiles blinked slowly, left his eyes narrowed. He tried to focus on the man speaking, but his voice sounded tinny and strange.

“He was looking for wolves. Fighters,” he added, muffled. 

Stiles’s head felt light, vision tunneling. He remembered what Peter said the previous summer, the first time he’d brought Stiles here. 

_Don’t show any weakness. They’ll go for your throat just to see if they can._

“—soldiers. He wanted to take an established territory.” 

“Did he have a name?” Peter asked silkily. 

“We didn’t ask,” the man said, voice even.

Stiles’s head was throbbing. His palm itched with the urge to massage the knotted muscles at the back of his neck. 

“He had to be talking about Hale land,” the man continued. “We sent him away. We’ve got nothing against you.” 

“Really.” Peter looked around. “New wolves?”

“Plenty.”

“But no takers for Alpha No Name?”

The man shrugged. “They come and go as they please. The man. I can describe him. He had light hair, a pointed face-”

Stiles swayed. 

Two wolves jumped him.

He snarled and flipped them off of him. He grabbed the nearest by the muzzle and dragged her to the dirt. 

Erica’s growls cut in as she dragged the second wolf away. 

The one Stiles had by the muzzle twisted out of his grip and snapped at his face, fangs just grazing his cheek. 

He growled and caught her by the throat, then threw her to the dirt again. This time, he pinned and held her until she whined. He let go and glanced at Erica.

She’d already subdued the other. 

Peter hadn’t moved. He looked at the man. “No man eaters?”

“We know the rules.”

Erica’s nose twitched. 

Stiles glanced at the red wolf that’d been staring at him.

She flicked her ears, then turned her head slowly, until she was staring at the mountain.

Stiles followed her gaze and saw a cluster of caves, either dug by the mutts or formed naturally. The scent of decay and death wafted sluggishly toward them. 

Erica ran.

Stiles followed. They shoved through groups of wolves and foliage, parting them all with curled lips and glowing eyes. Stiles nearly tripped over a trio of young wolves that were watching them avidly.

Erica stopped so suddenly her hair flew around her face. She stood in the mouth of the smallest cave, her stance shifting aggressively as disgust poured off of her. 

Stiles tensed.

“Peter,” Erica said tersely. 

“Take care of it.”

Stiles looked at the adults near the kids. “Cover their ears.”

“No,” Peter said sharply.

The parents looked pale, afraid. 

Stiles glared at Peter. 

Erica went into the cave. 

Scuffling. Blood and dead things.

Stiles listened just in case she needed help.

A yip. A thick _snap!_ like a branch breaking. Heavy thud. 

The kids stared. 

Erica came out of the cave and wiped blood off her cheek. She pointed at the cave. “He was eating a human.”

Stiles watched the group. Shock, disgust, fear. One of them gagged. 

“You have Hale pack protection until you do that,” Peter said flatly. 

The man who’d been talking to them had gone pale. “We—we don’t—we were…”

“Good. Is that clear?” Peter raised his voice. “All man-eaters will be executed. If you want to take your chances, well.” He smiled wide. “Be my guest. I could use a good fight.” 

Stiles looked at the kids and understood.

Little werewolves raised half-wild now knew the consequences of hunting humans. 

Erica started back to Peter’s side, so Stiles went with her. 

“Is that all you have on the alpha?” Peter pressed.

The man nodded. “Like I said, once we knew he was gunning for Hale territory, we sent him away.” He swallowed. “We _have_ been getting new people though,” he added quietly. “Some find us on their own, some we bring here if we notice them…drawing attention. It’s like no one’s teaching them anything after biting them.” 

“Send word if you hear anything new,” Peter instructed. “You remember how, I trust?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, “for your cooperation.”

They left. Stiles’s head was still spinning. 

At the car, Peter said, “I’m concerned.”

Erica scoffed and hopped into the driver’s seat. “About which part?”

He waved her off. “The alpha. Who was he? Old, stuffy. I can’t think of anyone who fits that description, or the physical one.” He kept going, but Stiles could barely hear him.

He fumbled to open the back door, dizzy and half-deafened by a strange buzzing.

“Stiles.” Peter turned in his seat. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Fine. Just tired.”

Peter studied him, then turned around. “The alpha Derek and I encountered was a woman, younger than Talia, definitely more aggressive than stuffy.” 

Stiles tipped his head against the window and closed his eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting these two at the same time so there are no concerns as to what _actually_ happened in this chapter. <3

Derek went out patrolling at dawn, restless with the information Peter had brought back and unable to sleep. He prowled in his fur, shaking dew off every now and then. Since the alpha the other day, there hadn’t been any strange scents on their property, so they were probably fine at the moment, but he couldn’t think of anything better to do with his restless energy.

He tipped his ears forward, stomach grumbling. A rabbit crouched a couple yards away, cleaning its face. Derek lowered onto his belly, gaze laser-focused on what he hoped was breakfast. He licked his lips and took one, small step forward.

Another wolf leaped out of the trees and onto the rabbit; it was dead before it could scream. 

Derek glanced at the wolf, wrinkling his muzzle. Leggy, brown. Slightly-too-big-ears. Stiles. Derek bared his teeth. 

Stiles’s eyes danced over the rabbit caught firmly in his jaws.

Derek stalked over to him and grabbed one of its hind legs, tugging. _This is mine._

Stiles growled and tugged back, like he’d decided killing it made it his. 

Derek growled. He’d seen it first, it was his. He’d already given up a lot for Stiles. He was taking this damn rabbit. 

Stiles skipped backwards, lowering his front half and wagging his tail.

Derek snarled. 

Stiles managed a chuff around the fur in his mouth. He snorted and shook his head, then dropped the rabbit. He nudged it toward Derek with his snout, eyes slitted as he watched him.

Derek crept over to take it. He felt Stiles watching him still and heaved a sigh, settling down on his belly near the rabbit.

Stiles’s mouth dropped open, tongue rolling out.

They ate together, shoulder to shoulder. Derek hated and loved it. He wanted this always, he wanted to be friends with Stiles again, to be with him again.

But Stiles hated Derek and everything he was. 

Derek licked blood and flecks of meat from his own face when he’d eaten his fill, then sat back and let Stiles finish eating.

Stiles only noticed Derek had stopped when he’d finished most of the rabbit. He looked over, puzzled, then hacked a cough. He pranced over and swiped his tongue over Derek’s head.

Rabbit fur drifted off his head, settling on the ground between them.

Stiles backed away with his tail lifted high, eyes bright.

Derek narrowed his eyes and followed him, matching him step for step.

Stiles lifted a forepaw, slowly, and lowered his head. 

Derek paused, confused. He tipped his head, ears lowering.

Stiles hit him in the face and bolted away.

Derek was so insulted, he _barked_ and tore after him, paws ripping up dirt and grass. 

Stiles let out a high, happy sound, bouncing easily over logs, rocks, and brush, his long legs never failing him.

Derek decided he had an unfair advantage and cut right to circle around.

Stiles had noticed Derek wasn’t following him anymore. He turned a slow circle between some trees, tail low, ears flicking as he tried to locate him.

Derek crept up behind him and pounced.

Stiles yelped and dropped under Derek’s bulk. He snarled playfully and squirmed, then rolled so he was on his back under Derek and lowered his ears. He licked Derek’s snout. 

Derek bared his teeth. 

Stiles mouthed playfully at his jaw.

It was easy like this, when they didn’t need words or hurt feelings—just the two of them in the woods. 

When Stiles slipped back into his skin and rolled Derek under him, Derek didn’t think twice.

He shifted and caught Stiles’s wrists. 

Stiles laughed and twisted, kneeing Derek in the thigh as he flipped them over again. 

Derek grunted and rolled away, then got up on his knees and growled. 

Stiles growled back, fingertips digging into the dirt. He still had his fangs out.

Derek tackled him.

Stiles laughed again, let Derek pin him. He stilled and looked up at Derek. The gold of his eyes faded, his expression soft and longing. His scent went strange, sad and bitter, deepened by need and something familiar but unnamable. 

Derek dipped down to nuzzle against his throat and inhaled deeply. He’d missed this scent, the feel of this skin. He hadn’t been this close since before. The differences were heart-wrenching and intoxicating at once. 

He smelled bloodier, and more animal than before, and faintly like pack.

Stiles let out a shaky sigh.

Derek tilted his face so he could meet his eyes. Well. If he was going to have his heart broken again…He touched his mouth gently to Stiles’s.

Stiles shuddered. 

Derek braced to be shoved away. 

He opened his mouth and drew Derek closer. 

Derek’s eyes widened, but he kissed back—was incapable of ever turning away from Stiles. 

Stiles met his gaze with wet eyes. He closed them and kissed Derek harder. 

A flood gate opened. Derek grabbed Stiles’s wrists hard enough to bruise, kissing him with biting force. He snarled against his mouth.

Stiles gave as good as he got, growling and whining in turns. He was stronger than the last time they’d been together like this and proved it by picking Derek up and shoving him to the ground, twisting out of his grip easily.

Derek surged up, capturing his mouth again. If this was a dream, he wanted to kiss and taste him as much as he could before he woke up.

Stiles rumbled deep in his chest. He bit Derek’s lip hard enough to draw blood, then licked it away as it healed. He straddled him, eyes gleaming. Not wolfish, but mischievous, the way they used to when he was thinking of ways to get them kicked out of public places. 

Derek grabbed his hips and pulled him closer. 

Stiles reached between them, curling his long fingers around both of them where they were hard and aching. He licked his lips.

Derek froze. 

Stiles kissed him hard and stroked them, rolling his hips. He groaned and licked into Derek’s mouth, forehead tipped against Derek’s, eyes squeezed shut. 

Derek kissed his jaw and covered his hand with his own, adjusting his pace. 

Stiles’s mouth curved. “Always the tortoise,” he murmured. 

“Some people like stamina,” he growled. He bit Stiles’s mouth and rolled his hips up. 

Stiles shook his head and pressed his face into Derek’s throat. He inhaled noisily, shuddered, and came. He whined after a second, moving his hips against Derek’s almost restlessly. 

Derek only had to inhale the scent of Stiles’s sleepy pleasure once before he, too, was shuddering and letting go. 

Stiles rolled off of him, sprawling in the grass. He had dirt smudged on his cheek, a smear of blood on his jaw from Derek’s mouth, but he looked good, flushed and sated. 

Derek curled around him when he felt him shivering. He knew there would be a fall out. Someone didn’t just change overnight; Stiles hadn’t suddenly decided to accept Derek for what he was. Even knowing that, Derek couldn’t turn him away. Would never be able to. Stiles was _it_ for him, whether Stiles wanted him back or not. He shut his eyes and pressed his nose against Stiles’s shoulder. 

There was silence for a while, just their mingled breaths and the preserve around them. 

Stiles’s back tensed. 

Derek squeezed his eyes shut. 

Stiles sat up, knocking Derek away. He fisted his hands in his hair when Derek opened his eyes. “I—I can’t,” he gasped. 

Derek sat up slowly and realized Stiles was crying—there were tears tracking down his face. “Stiles-”

He shook his head and dropped his hands. “I can’t, I can’t, I thought I could but I just can’t let it go.” He rubbed tears off his face. 

It hurt to hear. Derek glared at him. “Why do you hate what we _are_ so much?”

Stiles shook his head frantically and Derek braced for him to say he hated _Derek_, but he didn’t. He jumped to his feet and swayed. He gripped his hair again, his eyes flickering between gold and brown.

“Stiles?” Derek stood, approaching him.

He threw his hands out. “Don’t touch me!” He stumbled away, deeper into the preserve. 

Derek watched him go, speechless with fury. He turned on his heel and went home.

Cora was lounging on the back porch with Isaac when he reached the backyard, idly rolling a ball back and forth. She blinked lazily at him. “Morning,” she yawned. Her nose twitched, her eyes going wide and jaw dropping. She jumped to her feet with a blinding grin. “You guys made up! I was right, I knew-”

Derek shook his head. “We didn’t.”

Her face fell. “But you…”

Isaac touched her hand. “Not everyone has to like someone to feel attraction and have sex,” he murmured. He shot Derek a sympathetic look.

Derek gritted his teeth. “I knew things weren’t fixed, but-” He swallowed thickly. He turned away and found his sleep pants tossed aside in the yard. He pulled them on and gave up on the rest of his clothes. 

“But what?” Cora asked gently. 

He shook his head. “But Stiles was acting strange,” he said slowly, as he realized. “After,” he added. “He was acting weird, like—frantic, disoriented.” 

Cora and Isaac exchanged worried looks.

“What?” Derek demanded. 

Cora twisted the hem of her shirt in her fingers, her scent thickening with fear. “Well, it’s…we’ve seen Stiles act like that, too.”

Isaac nodded. “We just thought he was stressed and just…I don’t know. Forgetting?”

Derek felt cold. “Forgetting what?”

“He got up and left his apartment like four times. We thought he was just forgetting what he meant to do,” Cora murmured.

Derek shuddered. “Fuck. I left him-”

“I’ll get Mom,” Cora cut in anxiously, shaking her fingers free of her shirt. “Maybe, you know, his alpha can help.”

Derek crossed his arms. “I’ll go with her,” he said gruffly. As much as he didn’t want to see Stiles, he owed it to him to help find him. Especially if he wasn’t aware of what he was doing when they…

His stomach turned over. 

Isaac studied his face. “Maybe not.”

Cora nodded. “I’ll go get Mom and Dad. They’ll help him.” She ran into the house. 

Isaac nudged Derek into the house after her. “Do you regret being with him again?”

Derek sighed loudly. “No,” he muttered. “Only…if he didn’t know what he was doing, yeah, but…otherwise no.”

Isaac leaned his head against his shoulder. “Wanna make breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Anything to distract himself.


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles was walking in circles. He knew he was, because his feet kept taking him back to the road, out of the preserve, and he had to turn around. He had no clothes, he was filthy, he had blood on him somewhere. Even if he wanted to go anywhere, he wouldn’t be able to. 

He didn’t want to.

He sucked in a breath. Jesus. He and Derek…he hadn’t meant to do that. He’d woken up in his jeep. He’d been sleepwalking again and the roar of the engine starting had woken him. Thank _god_. Who knew what kind of damage he could have done behind the wheel.

He swallowed hard, tears prickling his eyes. He’d been upset, and playing around with Derek had taken his mind off things. It had been like the previous year hadn’t happened at all. It was so easy to kiss him and touch him, to draw those oh-so-familiar sounds from him, make him smile and gasp and sweat. But…but then it’d all come back: the last year wasn’t gone, just pushed to the back of his mind, and Derek _had_ changed him into a werewolf against his will. 

It was a violation of his jealously guarded trust, and everything inside of Stiles felt fractured because of it, because he didn’t trust many people and Derek…Derek was supposed to be one of the few who would never betray that trust, never hurt him. 

Stiles wrapped his arms around himself. He hadn’t meant to freak out. He’d just…felt confused, afterward. Teetering between sleep and awake, he’d felt a tug—a pull toward Derek, toward Talia and the pack, and another, harder to describe, pull. Away from the pack, from Talia. 

Stiles backed up. He’d been walking toward the road again. He shuddered. 

“Stiles.” Talia’s voice made him shiver, arms tightening around his middle. “Stiles, come back over here. You’re too close to the road.”

He stared ahead. Road. Talia. Road. Talia. RoadTaliaroadTaliaroadTaliaroad— He twisted away, bolting, and crumbled into her arms. 

She stroked his back.

Adam set a hand on his shoulder, rubbing with his thumb. 

Stiles shivered. “I’m tired,” he said brokenly. He swallowed, blinking back tears. “I’m being pulled apart.”

Talia shook her head. “You aren’t. Come on.” She tugged him deeper into the cover of the trees. She settled him down in the grass and sat across from him.

Adam set beside him, a warm, solid presence of comfort. 

“I feel like I am,” Stiles said.

She sighed. “Because you’re fighting your instincts.”

He frowned down at his knees. “So—so, are the wolf and—and human parts of me like…separate beings?” He looked up.

Talia popped the heel of her hand against his forehead. “_No._ You are a werewolf, Stiles. You’re a werewolf in your skin, and a werewolf in your fur. Whatever shape you’re in.” She sighed sadly. “You’re fighting your instincts that tell you what you want and need because you decided you shouldn’t, for some reason, want or need those things.” 

“I’m tired,” he whispered. “I’m just tired.”

Adam put his arm around his shoulders. “Just think about all that, okay, kid? Make things easier on yourself.”

Stiles nodded. 

Adam squeezed and tugged him to his feet. He and Talia walked on either side of him.

Stiles’s shoulders relaxed. He felt steadier now, more grounded. His head felt clearer. He would have to own up and apologize to Derek, tell him that he’d been freaked out and seeking comfort. As much as he’d like to call it a wash, considering what Derek had done to _him_, it was still unfair, and Stiles was willing to admit to his mistakes and bad choices. 

Adam stopped walking.

Stiles looked up, about to ask about breakfast, and let out a strangled sound.

There was a body. A woman, mid-twenties, wearing pajamas. She had black bile all down her front, streaming from her ears and nose. 

Talia snarled. “Adam, go call Sheriff Stilinski.”

Adam ran for the house.

Stiles moved closer to the body. “I don’t smell anyone, and she’s been here…” He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “All night, at least.”

Talia turned her head. “There’s no one here. Whoever did this left a while ago.” She looked down at the woman with a sad expression.

Stiles stepped back. “How many is this?”

“_She_ makes three,” she said delicately, and Stiles winced. “Only the second in bite rejection.” She shook her head. “Whoever is doing this…” 

Stiles crossed his arms. “Summit is coming up. Maybe they’ll help us?”

Talia glowered. “They’re more likely to blame us and give us an ultimatum about fixing it than help us.”

Stiles huffed. “Their job is to keep stuff like this from happening.”

Talia smiled. “You’re more than welcome to tell them that. The summit is being held at our house this year.” 

“I will.” Stiles heard a familiar engine flying closer to the house. He glanced down at himself. “I’m gonna go home and get dressed before Dad gets here.”

Talia nodded. “Wise.”

Stiles left.


	15. Chapter 15

Derek buried his face in his pillow, but the knocking at his bedroom door didn’t stop. He grunted. 

“I know it’s early,” Talia said through the door. “But I don’t want Jackson driving home alone. Peter’s busy preparing for the summit.”

Derek glowered and sat up. “No one else can go?”

“I need at least two people to go,” Talia said delicately. “Everyone has work except you and Stiles.”

He flopped backwards. “I can’t. I’m sick.”

“May I come in?”

He considered saying no. Talia and Adam had always respected their children’s boundaries, even when they were young, unless they were in immediate danger. He had no doubt that if he did say no, she wouldn’t enter the room. He also knew that she would proceed to have this conversation through the door. He sighed heavily. “Yeah,” he muttered. 

Talia opened the door and entered. She shut it behind her. “I think you and Stiles need to talk.”

“Funny, I was thinking the _exact_ opposite.”

She lifted a brow at him. “I know there are hurt feelings, and that it’s uncomfortable, but you two can’t avoid each other forever.” She sat at his desk. “I know his actions and words hurt you, and that his rejection of what we are is painful. But we all need to remember how traumatic all of it was for Stiles, especially at that time.”

Derek looked down.

“He’d just barely learned that we existed. Becoming a werewolf himself must have been quite a shock when he didn’t even believe in them not twenty minutes prior. Those two events, combined with the physical traumas of changing, took a toll on him. I don’t like that he blames you for something that could not possibly be your fault, but one year…” She folded her hands in her lap. “One year is not that much time to get used to being changed into something completely different from what you used to be. It’s not much time for everything he learned and went through.”

Derek nodded. “I know.” His mouth was dry. “I know and—it’s just so—hard,” he said, voice hitching. “So hard to be around him, when he’s acting like he hates me.”

Talia moved to sit beside him. “I know. But just…give him time.”

Derek laughed dryly. 

She jostled him. “I didn’t say go easy on him. Just because he had a rough year doesn’t mean he gets a pass to be cruel, especially not to people trying to help him.” She smiled. 

He sighed. “Yeah, alright, I’ll go. But if Jackson and Stiles kill each other, it isn’t my fault.”

“Noted.” 

Derek was in his car an hour later, fiddling with the radio when Stiles dropped into the passenger seat. He was barely dressed, sleep mussed and dazed. He’d brushed his teeth but that was about it.

“Why can’t we take the jeep?” Derek asked. He eyed Stiles’s muddy sneakers. Within a half hour, he was going to be snapping at him to get them off the dash, he already knew it. 

“Passenger seat,” Stiles mumbled. He yawned fiercely. “I, uh, broke the passenger seat.”

Derek scoffed and put the car in drive. Of _course_ he broke the passenger seat. Somehow.

Stiles jabbed at the radio until it flipped to an oldies’ station.

Derek put it back.

“Come on, you know how much I hate talk shows.”

He felt him glaring at the side of his head and grinned. 

After a moment, Stiles huffed. “Fine. Have it your way.”

If things were _his_ way, Stiles wouldn’t hate him so much. “I will,” he said smugly. “My car, my choice.”

Stiles stiffened. 

_Uh-oh._ Derek swallowed. Wrong word. 

“Oh, choice is important to you? Huh. Good to know,” Stiles snapped, his voice dripping with venom. He inhaled sharply.

Derek braced for more snarling. He knew Stiles blamed him for bringing him to the house, the preserve, where he’d been bitten, and he knew Stiles thought they hadn’t done enough, but they _had._ They couldn’t find the alpha who’d changed him, and it had been more important to make sure Stiles didn’t hurt himself during the change than to hunt the alpha down at the time. 

“_**MAKIN’ MY WAY DOWNTOWN, WALKIN’ FAST, FACES PASS AND I’M HOMEBOUND!**_” 

Derek winced. “Cut it out!”

Stiles glared at him. “_**STARING BLANKLY AHEAD, JUST MAKIN’ MY WAY, MAKING A WAY THROUGH A CROWD!**_”

Derek turned the radio up, but the talk show DJ didn’t stand a chance against Stiles’s off-tune wailing.

He switched to _Ragdoll_ by Aerosmith when he finished, then _Big Balls_ by AC/DC, much to the amusement of some bikers caught in weekend traffic with them, as they picked up singing with him.

Stiles’s voice gave out halfway through _Eye of the Tiger_. Silence fell swift and heavy in the car. Stiles cleared his throat, then swallowed and winced. 

Derek pulled off the interstate and into a drive-thru. After ordering, he went quiet again. 

“Thanks,” Stiles rasped when Derek passed him a bottle of water. 

Derek didn’t respond. He knew his mother wanted them to talk, but that just wasn’t going to happen. 

The rest of the drive was quiet. The closer to Jackson’s school they got, however, the antsier Stiles became. He was excited. 

Derek rolled his eyes. 

Jackson and Stiles had taken an instant dislike to each other upon meeting, which Stiles had dealt with by finding as many ways as possible to annoy the crap out of Jackson. 

Derek thought Jackson’s problem was probably Peter. Until Erica and Stiles had come along, Jackson had been Peter’s main concern for most of Jackson’s life. He was an only child and he did _not_ like that Peter had a bond with Stiles and Erica that Jackson just didn’t get. 

Derek thought it was ridiculous, but explaining to Jackson that he should be _happy_ he wasn’t just crazy enough to make a good student to Peter Hale was pointless. He didn’t _get it._

Stiles was all but vibrating in place when they parked outside of Jackson’s apartment building. “Still the same one from last year?”

“Yes.” Derek put the car in park. As he was reaching for the ignition, Stiles set his hand on his wrist. 

“I’ll get him,” he said, his voice nearly shaking with thinly veiled glee. 

Derek dropped his arm, breaking the point of contact. “Fine.” He settled back and crossed his arms. “Just don’t get us arrested.” He closed his eyes. 

Stiles laughed and got out of the car. 

He hadn’t said he wouldn’t get them arrested. 

Derek’s eyes snapped open. He leaned forward, scanning the parking lot for Stiles, but there was no one in sight.

Movement had him turning his head and his jaw dropped. “_Stiles!_ You moron!” Wild, half-hysterical laughter burst from his throat. 

Stiles was scaling the side of the building, using window ledges and vents as foot and finger holds. It was clearly nothing a human could accomplish, and if he was seen… He found Jackson’s window and popped the screen off. 

Derek covered his face, groaning. When he looked up, Stiles was gone. “You’re an idiot,” he hissed. He didn’t hear any shouting, which meant Jackson wasn’t there yet. 

He was probably on his way back from wherever he’d been. He’d promised to be ready when Derek arrived, but he almost never was. He’d done the same thing twice last year, and the year before. 

Derek sat, tense and listening hard, for seven minutes. He heard a high yelp, followed by a brief scuffle.

Jackson snarled, Stiles laughed, something shattered. “_Stilinski!_”

“Is that your bag?” Stiles shouted.

“What? Yes! What do you—_hey!_”

A duffle bag flew out of the window, landing with a heavy _whump_ in the grass. 

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. 

A shout had him looking up and groaning again. 

Stiles had Jackson slung over his shoulder while he hung one handed from the window.

Jackson kicked the wall while Derek watched, making them sway dangerously.

“Quit it!”

“Let go of me!”

“Too late, we’re already out here!”

Jackson kicked again. “Let me go!”

“Stop being such a brat and _let me climb down!_”

Jackson snarled. “You let go of me _now_ or I’ll-”

Stiles rolled his eyes and—let Jackson go.

He managed one, high yelp and crashed into the shrubs. 

Stiles leaped down, landing on his feet and making something in his ankle snap. He hissed and hopped in place until it healed, then grabbed Jackson’s bag. “Come on, we have to go.”

Jackson extracted himself from the bushes. “Fuck. You.”

“You. Wish.” Stiles laughed gleefully when Jackson lunged at him; instead of backing away, he banged his shoulder into Jackson’s chest, knocking him off track. 

Jackson stalked to the car, still shedding leaves and branches. He glowered down at Derek. “Why’d you bring him?”

“Mom said no one is supposed to travel alone.” Derek popped the trunk. “Put your bag away and get in.”

“Why couldn’t Aunt Talia send Cora with you?” he muttered. He climbed into the backseat. “He was _under my bed._” 

Derek choked on a laugh, trying to hide it. 

Stiles tossed Jackson’s bag in the trunk and closed it, then got in, whistling. “That was fun.”

“Fuck off.” He glared. “I’m telling Aunt Talia you threw me out a window again.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles said dryly. “You do that. I’m terrified.”

Jackson scowled. 

Stiles looked over at Derek, grinning, like he was so cheerful about messing with Jackson that he’d forgotten to despise Derek.

Derek grinned back. 

Jackson stuck his head between the seats and turned toward Stiles. “Stop.” His voice had an edge to it, less whiny and more angry. 

Stiles stopped. 

Derek sighed.


	16. Chapter 16

The Hales and Argents had a truce spanning more than a decade; so far, it seemed to be working. Every year, twice a year, they all met on the full moon. The Argents were hunters, though they didn’t hunt normally in Beacon Hills and never werewolves in their territory. The summit was a chance to check in with each other and discuss supernatural events in town, make sure everyone was holding up their end of the bargain, and to help each other if they needed it. Derek was sure they would have plenty to say about the deaths.

Chris, Victoria, and Allison Argent were the only ones who lived in Beacon Hills, while the rest were full time hunters, Argent cousins come to be sure both sides had the same amount of people. 

They arrived at four-fifteen as they always did. 

Derek kept his arms at his sides, though he wanted to cross them. Beside him, Laura huffed and pulled her shoulders back. 

Chris, Victoria, Adam, and Talia all met in the middle of the yard. 

Derek scanned the rest of the hunters. He recognized a few from the last time; a couple were new. 

The new ones looked nervous, glancing at Allison for cues and keeping their hands on their concealed weapons. They were supposed to have been trained better than that, but being face to face with a pack of werewolves was a lot different than just hunting one while they fled in terror. 

“Welcome to my home,” Talia said evenly. “We’re glad you could make it.”

“Thank you. We have a lot to discuss,” Victoria added. “Pleasantries can wait, can’t they?”

Talia tipped her head. “Pleasantries can, yes, but tradition cannot. Tonight,” she said in a carrying voice, “you are guests in our home, our territory, and my pack will treat you as such. None of my pack will cause you harm, nor allow harm to come to you.” 

Victoria sighed. “We are guests in your home tonight. We will respect that, and no harm shall come to you at our hands tonight.”

Derek cocked his head. 

Boyd muttered, “Great,” just before Erica and Stiles jumped off the roof. 

One of the new hunters yelped; another gasped, “Fuck!” as the two of them landed in crouches, shoulder to shoulder and just feet away from the hunters.

“Control your betas,” Chris snapped.

Stiles and Erica straightened up, smirking.

Talia glanced at Chris. “Those two are Peter’s responsibility.”

“Then control _him_.”

Derek glanced away and noticed Allison snickering.

She’d gone to school with Stiles, so she’d known him before Derek had, even, and was used to his shenanigans. 

After the formal greetings were exchanged, the pack and hunters were encouraged to mingle while Talia, Adam, Chris, and Victoria stayed on the porch to discuss the deaths. 

Derek stood with Laura in the yard, watching everyone else. 

Boyd and Isaac were talking to Rhea Argent, who’d come last year, about some football team she’d been following; Cora and Erica were talking to Allison a few feet away about a movie Derek hadn’t seen.

Peter and Jackson were also just watching, separate from the crowd; Peter had managed to pass his paranoia off to Jackson, so neither of them did much mingling at these things. 

Stiles was speaking to one of the new hunters; he’d been twitchy and forgetful all night, and judging by his expansive, aborted gestures and half-finished sentences, it hadn’t gotten better. 

Derek got bored and went to help set the table. 

Allison joined him. “How long until my dad threatens to stab Peter with a dinner fork?”

Derek snorted and passed her a stack of plates. “Probably before dinner is on the table. Of course, it is Peter’s turn to make the threats this time.”

“Oh, in that case, my money is on after dinner, in the woods, with a candlestick.” She laughed when he made a face, then glanced over her shoulder. 

Derek asked, “How’re things with Scott?”

She looked back at him and grimaced. “Fine. You know.” She jerked her shoulder. “It’s hard, because he knows about…this, but he doesn’t know _I_ know, and I just don’t feel comfortable telling him.” She frowned. “I don’t think he’d understand the truce, you know?”

Derek nodded. “I get it.” He sighed. 

Scott McCall was Stiles’s best friend, who Stiles had told about werewolves approximately 48 hours after his first full shift. He’d obviously taken Stiles’s side, furious at all things Hale and werewolf for bringing this upon his friend.

Derek scowled. 

Stiles, while wrong for blaming them, had a good reason to be angry. 

Scott’s opinion was not wanted or asked for. 

“Yeah, so.” Allison shrugged. “I just haven’t told him, and Stiles promised he wouldn’t.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “So, Stiles is acting a little more…unhinged than usual,” she said delicately. 

“He’s always like this on full moons.”

Her gaze flicked toward the house.

Derek shrugged. “Honestly, that was pretty innocuous. He was just messing with the new people.”

“Uh-huh.” She set the last plate down. “Well, he’s also currently playing target practice with Nora.”

Derek’s head snapped up.

Stiles was holding his arms out, staring at one of the new hunters while she threw knives at him. Or, rather, the tree behind him. 

She flinched when she noticed Derek stomping over. The knife sailed toward Stiles’s face. 

Stiles caught it and tossed it aside. 

Derek snarled at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Having fun. Thanks, Nora!” he chirped, leaning around Derek’s shoulder to see her. He looked back at Derek after she walked away, eyes narrowing.

“Well?”

“Well what?” He shrugged jerkily. He had blood on his shirt from being nicked, tiny spatters and drops. The cuts had healed, obviously, but the point was…

“Don’t be so stupid,” Derek sighed. 

“Whatever.” Stiles shoved past him and stalked over to Erica. 

After dinner, the Argents promised to help keep an eye out for the mutts, though usually werewolf issues were handled by the pack. They stayed, observing as the pack stripped and shifted. It was normal to stay, to observe the full moon festivities, but they always looked vaguely uncomfortable. 

Derek ignored them and romped around with Isaac and Cora, rolling into the woods. He bit Cora’s ear and snorted when she yelped, then leaned back, baring his teeth in a grin.

Erica darted by and pounced on Isaac’s head, making him yelp. She backed away, her tail sweeping over the ground, tongue lolling out, ears perked straight up. She howled playfully when he chased her.

Cora snorted at them and sat down, curling her tail around her feet and yawning widely. 

Derek looked around, taking stock of the rest of the pack. They were spread out but close enough to see, doing their own things but keeping an eye on each other. 

Talia and Adam were grooming Jackson, who still smelled like strangers at school. He was laying at their feet, biddable enough for the moment. 

Laura was wrestling a kill from Boyd, who was putting up a pretty good fight, snarls and all. 

Derek’s ears flicked. 

Peter was stalking something.

Derek joined him, curious, until he realized Peter was creeping along behind _Stiles._ He huffed, annoyed, and turned to leave. 

Peter growled, knocking into Derek’s shoulder, but his gaze never left Stiles. 

Derek heaved a sigh and turned back. 

Stiles was pacing, which wasn’t unusual. His ears were back, tail low, and he was whining, like he was upset. 

Derek shook himself and stepped ahead, ignoring Peter’s grumbling. 

Stiles wasn’t an experiment to observe. 

Derek waited until Stiles’s ears perked in acknowledgement to get closer, then began herding him back toward the rest of the pack.

Stiles whined and twisted, trying to pace away. 

Derek knocked him back on track. 

Peter was annoying Talia when they reached the pack, batting at her face until she bared her teeth with a low rising growl.

Jackson and Cora were wrestling while Boyd ate his catch a few feet away. 

Derek laid in the dirt, blinking lazily when Erica raced by. He panted lightly, cooling himself off and breathing in the scents of the pack and Boyd’s food. He flicked his ear when a fly landed on him, annoyed, and watched Cora sit on Jackson’s snout, howling triumphantly. 

Stiles paced around, anxious, for a few minutes, before nudging Derek with his muzzle. He whined and curled up beside him, then, with a heavy sigh, started licking Derek’s shoulder. 

Confused, Derek stared at him.

He kept licking, although with a sleepy sort of determination, like he wasn’t aware of what he was doing. When he finally fell asleep, Derek’s shoulder was wet, black fur matted down. 

Laura sauntered over, sniffed at them for a minute, scoffed, and curled up around them both.

Derek rested his head on her back, sighing deeply. 

Stiles kept waking up to lick his shoulder all night.


	17. Chapter 17

Stiles tapped his fingers on his legs, watching the side window while Erica drove. 

She turned the radio on. “At least pretend you’re not the most annoying person alive.” 

“I wear my rank with honor,” he said, and kept tapping off beat with the music. His nose twitched; her car smelled like _Hawaiian Breeze_ air freshener, which was probably better than blood, maybe.

She sighed. “Okay. Allison said the mutt was wandering near the woods opposite of Hale property. We should be seeing him soon.”

Stiles kept his gaze on the woods. “Do they count as mutts if they have an alpha?” he asked. There was at least one—the woman Derek and Peter had fought—with a good chance of another—the one the mutts had described—and he’d been wondering that since they’d realized.

“They won’t have one for long,” Erica growled. 

“Fair enough.” He spotted something. “Speed up.”

She glanced at him as she accelerated. “Why?”

“Just _speed up._” He unbuckled and turned in his seat, gaze locked on the moving blur. He wrinkled his nose at the incessant beeping of the seatbelt reminder. His muscles bunched as the car pulled up beside the blur.

“Stiles-”

He threw the door open and leaped out. He heard Erica shout something. He collided with the mutt. His momentum sent them both flying. 

They landed in a heap several yards from the road. Stiles scrambled to his feet, flicking his claws out. 

The mutt did the same, though he stayed hunched over. He was practically feral, bloody and dirty, and he smelled like he’d hurt or killed someone recently.

Stiles wrinkled his nose. 

The mutt rushed him. He swiped at Stiles’s throat, but he was clumsy, slow.

Stiles knocked him away. “Who did you hurt?” he demanded. 

“Why do you care?” the mutt sneered. “Humans are beneath us. We’re _better_ now.”

“They’re not,” Stiles said. “We aren’t.”

The mutt lunged, teeth snapping like a rabid dog.

Stiles struck his chest with the heel of his palm. He leaped on him when he was down. He set his claws against his throat. “Who’s your al-”

The mutt surged to his feet. He slashed his claws across Stiles’s cheek, just missing his eye, and arched to swing again.

Stiles snarled. He caught his wrist this time and twisted until the bones snapped. 

The mutt howled and swung his foot back, aiming a wild kick at Stiles’s leg and missing by a mile. 

Stiles dropped his arm and grabbed his throat. He lifted him onto his toes. “Who’s your alpha?”

“Fuck _off._” He squirmed, but couldn’t break Stiles’s grasp. He clawed at his arm. 

Stiles ignored the blood and stinging gashes. “Who changed you?”

The mutt roared and broke free. He raked his claws down Stiles’s shoulder, scraping bone. He swiped again, flinging blood.

Stiles caught his hand before he could retract his claws from his flesh and squeezed, crushing the bones. 

The mutt snarled, face contorting with pain. He yanked ineffectively at his arm, then snapped his teeth at Stiles’s face.

Stiles let go of his hand. He reached out before he could lunge, grabbed his head, and twisted sharply. 

The body dropped with a heavy thud. 

He stared down at it, disgusted. He sighed deeply. It was going to be impossible to find everyone that had been turned at this rate.

Erica’s car bumped across the rough terrain next to the road and parked near the woods. She slammed the door and cursed as her boots crunched over dirt and gravel. She stopped next to him and put her hands on her hips. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” She glanced at the body. “Did you find out anything?”

“No, he wasn’t even-” He shook his head. “He wasn’t a local. If they’re leaving Beacon Hills to turn people, then how are we supposed to know who it is? We can’t just assume all non-locals are mutts.” He swiped blood off his face. 

Erica pulled her hair back into an elastic. “No use wasting time. Your dad’s gonna be annoyed.”

Stiles looked around. “He could’ve tripped.” 

“He’ll be mad if we just leave it.” Erica put her hands on her hips again, then glanced over her shoulder. “Ugh, come on, let’s just take care of it. If we leave, Peter will make us practice body disposal again. Plus, your blood is all over the place.” She looked around the scene and picked up a branch.

Stiles winced. 

A few hard facts of werewolf life: there would be blood, there would be bodies, and there would be no good explanation for law enforcement. 

Peter had spent a lot of time teaching Stiles about the ugly parts of lycanthropy. 

“I’ll get the tarp.” He was getting used to it.


	18. Chapter 18

Derek glared blearily at the sink while he filled his water glass. It didn’t matter how old he got, four am struck and he woke up, like clockwork, parched. He blamed Laura; when they were kids, she would get up for a glass of water at three fifty, so when she’d go back to bed, it’d wake him. He yawned fiercely and guzzled the water. 

The faucet filter would need replacing soon. He grimaced and finished off his glass. 

Someone walked by the kitchen door. 

He tensed. He couldn’t hear anyone awake. Who…He set his cup down and went after them. 

Sure enough, Stiles was fumbling with the front door. His heart was slow and calm with sleep, his movements a little awkward but not enough to raise any red flags. He managed to get the door open before Derek got himself moving.

Stiles’s eyes were open, glazed and unaware, but open enough that if Derek couldn’t hear from the rest of him that he was sleeping, he might not have realized it.

Derek nudged him back inside and closed the door. He frowned when Stiles started walking to the kitchen. He locked the door and followed him. 

He hadn’t…when he and Derek were still together, he never did this. It’d started after he’d been turned. 

Derek swallowed and took Stiles’s hand, gently tugging until he followed. Claws briefly scraped the back of his hand, then receded, as Stiles drifted into consciousness. 

Derek kept leading him back to his room. 

Stiles stayed quiet, even as they reached the bedroom. 

Derek helped him onto the bed and tried to back away. “I’ll go,” he said quietly. 

Stiles’s hand flexed round his. “Stay. Please.”

Derek nodded, because he couldn’t say _no_, and sat on the floor beside the bed. 

Stiles laid down, holding Derek’s hand. He slipped back to sleep within minutes. 

Derek looked at him, his heart aching. He missed him, his dumb jokes and noisy laughter, he missed being able to touch him and comfort him without him pulling away. 

The sun began to rise after a little while. 

Stiles woke soon after and blinked at Derek. “You stayed.”

“You asked me to.” He shrugged. 

Stiles leaned in. 

Derek had time to pull away. His eyes were wide open. 

Stiles kissed him. 

Derek’s body relaxed, like a Pavlovian response. He kissed him back, just a little, before pulling away. 

Stiles blinked at him, confused, then wary. 

Derek scrambled to his feet. “I just—I’m going for a run,” he muttered, and left the room. He wanted Stiles, so much, wanted him in any way he’d give him, but he couldn’t keep getting kicked in the teeth. He just couldn’t. He threw his pajamas aside and ran into the woods, then shifted on the fly and ran. 

It was full morning when Boyd caught up to him. He kept pace beside Derek for a while, though eventually he veered their path back toward the house. 

They shifted before they hit the yard. Derek found his shirt and a sock, but his pants seemed lost. 

“Talia took Peter, Erica, and Laura to patrol town,” Boyd told him. He gathered his own clothes and lobbed Derek’s other sock at him. 

“Thanks.”

He nodded and went into the house. 

Derek used his shirt to wipe his face and grimaced, then headed inside to shower. 

Adam was making breakfast when Derek came downstairs. Boyd was helping him, so Derek left them to it. He wandered into the living room, freezing when he saw something move.

Cora and Stiles were sparring in the yard while Jackson judged them. 

Derek watched. 

Stiles was good, when he let his instincts take the lead. He fought with the sort of ferocity Peter had instilled in him and Erica. 

Cora was trying to learn, but she and Derek both hesitated too much during practice. 

While Stiles’s logic and instincts worked well together, Derek and Cora fought best in the heat of the moment. 

Isaac stopped beside Derek to watch, then sighed. 

Derek winced as Cora threw Stiles. 

He tumbled and landed on all fours. His muscles bunched a half second before he leaped, taking Cora down in one smooth move. 

“You’re only hurting yourself,” Isaac said quietly. “You need to move on.”

Derek shrugged restlessly, keeping his gaze on Stiles. “You know, if I’d waited to tell him, if I hadn’t told him at all, he wouldn’t have been in the preserve that day. He wouldn’t have been turned, and we’d be happy.”

Isaac shook his head, but didn't speak. He leaned companionably against Derek’s shoulder.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably post 20 & 21 on the same day, and when you read them, you'll see why. <3

Stiles rolled onto his back. He glared at the ceiling. He was still on leave from work, and the whole pack was taking turns patrolling, so he felt cooped up, antsy and bored. He had even less to do with the entire pack home and taking turns with patrols. 

He grumbled and dropped his arm over his eyes. His turn for patrol wasn’t until later in the night, so he had all day to kill. He could smell someone cooking—probably Adam—but he wasn’t hungry. He grumbled again and got out of bed. 

He grabbed some clothes and shuffled to the hall bathroom to shower and dress. 

He checked his emails once he was back in his guest room. “Bowling?” he muttered. “What the hell, Charles?” But maybe he could find something cheap and interesting about bowling alleys and get an article in before his temporary replacement had to do it. 

He sat and stared at his laptop for twenty minutes, then scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. He called Professor Mercier. “Hey. I’m doing a piece on, uh, _bowling_, but I want something more interesting than just bowling.”

“_Try Black-light Bowling. Every third Friday, they do a theme night._”

“Ooh, thanks. What’s the place called?” Stiles typed the name into his search bar. “Thank you.”

“_No problem,_” Mercier said warmly. 

They chatted for a few minutes. Stiles’s responses felt vague, even to him—he couldn’t concentrate and found he wanted to hang up more than anything. “Well, I have to go. We’ll have lunch soon,” he promised. 

“_Today,_” Mercier pressed. “_We can get brunch today._”

Stiles blinked and shook his head. His brain felt weird and foggy. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said thickly. “Where? Uh-huh.” He bookmarked the website for the bowling alley and stood, grabbing his keys off the desk. “Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen.” He hung up. He stared at the phone for a second, blinking as his vision swam and then settled. He shook himself and pocketed it as he left the room. 

Mercier was already at the restaurant when Stiles arrived. He smiled widely. The scent of floor polish clung to him. He must’ve been cleaning his house before Stiles called. “How’re you doing?” he asked when Stiles sat down. 

“Hmm? Oh, fine.” He shrugged. 

“And your father?”

Stiles glanced up at him sharply. “What? Why?”

His brows lifted. “You said you came back here for a family emergency. I assumed…”

“Did I?” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I guess I forgot. Yeah, he’s doing okay. I’ll probably be out here a while.”

Mercier frowned. “You shouldn’t put your own life on hold entirely for someone else. Maybe some distance could even help the situation.” 

Stiles shook his head. “Uh, maybe. I…” He rubbed his face. His chest tightened; he felt a tug in his mind. “How’re your classes?” he asked in a last ditch effort to change the subject. 

Stiles massaged the back of his neck as he walked into the Hale house, thinking he must’ve slept on it wrong. He kicked off his shoes near everyone else’s and paused. 

Cora came jogging down the stairs, then paused when she saw him, setting a hand on her hip. “What’re you doing?”

He blinked at her. “Nothing. I’m just tired.” He rubbed his neck.

Cora leaned in and grabbed his shirt, practically yanking him down to her level. “You’ve got blood on your collar.”

He moved his shoulders restlessly. “Probably from an animal or a mutt or something. I don’t generally worry about my clothes when I’m fighting.” 

She pinched it between her fingers and frowned. “Maybe from wrestling with Erica.” She sniffed her stained fingertips, then shrugged.

“Maybe.” He shrugged her off. “What’s Adam cooking?”

“Didn’t you just have lunch?” Cora laughed. “He and Derek are making tacos for everyone.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Isaac and Boyd just got back. My turn,” she sighed. She went to meet them in the backyard. 

Stiles moved to look in the kitchen and crossed his arms. 

Derek was nodding as he minced onions, taking Adam’s instructions with his usual level of intense concentration. 

Stiles stood there for a few minutes, just watching him move around the kitchen. 

Peter joined Stiles. “It’s a shame he’s still in love with you.”

Stiles jolted.

His voice was quiet to keep from being overheard by anyone but Stiles.

“Wh-”

Peter shrugged. “It’s been a year. He should move on, don’t you think?”

Stiles’s heart jumped. Then he remembered the reason they weren’t together anymore, and felt fury light him up. “_He_ did this to…” The words, the emotions, everything drained out of his head, quickly and completely, until he was left perfectly blank. He could feel Peter staring at him, but couldn’t figure out what he’d been about to say. 

“Stiles?”

He shuddered. “I have to go,” he muttered. He went out the front door, stumbling blindly down the steps and into the backyard. His breaths whined on the way in, whistled on the way out, and he couldn’t—

It was Derek’s fault. He was the one who’d done this to Stiles. If he’d have just asked, or given Stiles time to want this himself, they wouldn’t—he wasn’t _allowed_ to act heartbroken. 

Stiles sat against a tree and covered his face. He took several deep breaths, trying not to cry. 

Feet padded closer to him, soft over the decaying leaves and branches on the ground, a steady heartbeat making its way through the trees. Sweat, cinnamon, anxiety, wool. Isaac. He sat beside Stiles, but he didn’t speak.

“Am I,” Stiles croaked. He cleared his throat. “Am I supposed to just get over it?” He dropped his hands. 

Isaac shifted a little in place and stretched his legs out. “It’s in the past. Can’t change it.” 

Stiles sniffled. “I don’t _want_ to change it!” He stopped, stunned, and stared at his knees, trying to figure out when that’d happened, when he’d stopped wanting to change it. But he wouldn’t. He’d done a lot of research when he’d left the Hale house finally last year, reading all the lore and mythology books he could get his hands on. Some suggested that killing the werewolf that’d changed him would make him human again. He’d disregarded it instantly. As furious as he’d been at Derek, he hadn’t wanted to _kill_ him. At least, not after he’d finished turning. “I just want acknowledgement,” he said at last, “that it wasn’t right. Being turned against my will.” 

Isaac turned to look at him. “I agree. It wasn’t right, or fair, and I’m sorry for you.”

Stiles nodded, dropping his gaze. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted an apology from _Derek_, acknowledgment from _Derek_, so that maybe they could get through this. He wasn’t sure if he could forgive him, but, he realized with a shiver, he wanted to try.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, two chapters at once, and posted so quickly simply because sometimes I just...

Talia nodded at Derek and crept forward, walking on the balls of her feet. She turned her head, watching Stiles on her other side, but as usual, he was stalking his prey with ease. 

Derek focused. 

They were following a werewolf in their woods. She was far enough away that they weren’t in danger of being seen, but there was a chance she’d hear them. 

Derek couldn’t tell if she was the alpha he and Peter had fought or not. Her scent was masked by blood and sweat, mud and bark, like she’d been fighting someone in the woods. 

Stiles crept ahead of Talia, eyes glowing gold in the deep-woods shade. His mouth was open, exposing sharpened teeth. He tipped his head to the side and inhaled, nostrils twitching.

The werewolf bolted off.

Talia shot after her with Stiles at her side.

Stiles fell back just a little, letting Talia take point. They were rapidly gaining on the werewolf and then Derek could smell her—it _was_ the alpha. Stiles leaped over a fallen tree, sailing through the air like he was made for it.

Derek couldn’t keep up. They were in human form, but Stiles was still faster than him. “We’re getting too close to the road!”

Stiles snarled. 

Talia snapped, “She’s trying to throw us off. Stay on her. We’ll explain to witnesses later.”

Stiles sped up, nearly catching both Talia and the alpha. 

Derek bolted left, hoping to cut her off before she actually reached the street. 

There was a beige car several yards ahead.

“Mom! Car!”

Talia swore.

The alpha bolted out of the trees and hurled herself into the passenger side of the car. 

It shot forward, tires screeching and throwing off smoke.

Talia skidded to a stop and started cursing again.

Stiles flew past.

“Stiles!”

Derek and Talia raced after him.

Stiles was running full-tilt, nearly alongside the car, which wasn’t surprising—the only one in the pack faster than him on two legs was Talia, and he had a significant head start. 

The road curved sharply and the car slowed automatically. 

“What are you _doing?_” the alpha shouted from within the car. “No!”

Stiles caught up in that brief hesitation. His muscles bunched and, with barely a second to spare, he leaped onto the hood of the car.

“_Stiles!_” Derek and Talia shouted at once as his boots slammed into the hood, one hand flying down to brace himself. 

The car swerved wildly, then bumped into a ditch.

Stiles punched through the glass, dragged the driver out, and tossed him aside.

Talia caught up and ripped open the door, then grabbed the alpha by the throat and hauled her out, claws dug deep into her flesh.

Stiles jumped off the hood.

The driver, a beta, crab-walked backwards. He was covered in blood and healing cuts, his face a mess as he panted and whined with fear, gaze locked on Stiles.

Stiles stalked after him. “Where you going?” He pounced. 

Derek helped Talia subdue the alpha, dodging her swiping claws and snapping fangs, though he wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid the foot she dug into his thigh, leaving deep, stinging scratches. He leaned back, frustrated, once she was down and looked at Stiles.

He was knocking the beta around like a cat playing with its prey.

Derek glowered and stalked over to grab his arm and drag him away. “What is wrong with you?”

“I healed already.” Stiles shrugged him off. 

“That isn’t the point-”

“We will deal with this at home,” Talia cut in. She had a foot on the alpha’s back between her shoulders, pinning her down. “Derek, call Peter. Stiles, deal with him.”

The beta snarled and lunged, shooting around Derek, keeping low, and leaped at Talia.

Stiles caught him mid-jump. He grabbed his head and twisted sharply. 

The alpha under Talia’s foot howled furiously. She didn’t sound sad or hurt—just angry. 

Derek looked at her with disgust, then walked a few feet away to call Peter. 

Stiles moved the beta into the grass and got to work fixing the car. He’d learned from Peter and his own father’s job how to make crime scenes look like accidents, when he had to. Apparently cars were pretty easy.

Derek watched him kick the windshield from the inside while they waited for Peter to pick them up. “What’re you doing?”

Stiles shot him an impatient look. “Making it look like a wreck.” He studied the steering wheel, then shrugged, ripping the cover off and messing with something until the airbag deployed.

Derek shook his head. “If your dad is investigating, he’ll just-”

“He might not be the one who investigates this. Help me push the car into that tree.”

“Why?”

“Because as of right now, the car looks fine—except for the windshield and the feet shaped dents in the hood. Doesn’t look like anything caused him to fly out of the windshield like that.” Stiles scowled.

Derek slammed the side of his fist against the hood. “There. Now it just looks like he hit stuff a lot.”

“You¬-” Stiles scoffed and shook his head, turning away. He kept messing with the car until it looked like a plausible wreck had happened, grumbling under his breath about no one being any help to him. 

Peter arrived while Stiles was finishing up, driving his own black SUV. He jumped out and crouched beside the alpha with a syringe in his left hand, which he uncapped and jabbed it into the side of her neck.

She yowled furiously and swung out at him, scrabbling under Talia’s hold.

Talia stomped on her arm, snapping it just below the elbow.

The alpha screamed, writhing and trying to pull her injured arm in.

Peter depressed the plunger. 

It only took a few minutes for the alpha to go limp and unconscious. 

“What was that?” Stiles asked.

Peter started wrapping the alpha’s wrists and ankles in duct tape. “Wolfsbane mixture. Ride up front. Derek and Talia, ride with her.” He lifted the alpha, now bound, and tossed her into the cargo space of his SUV. 

Derek climbed in, then held his hand out for Talia. He settled his back against the door, shifting his knees under him so he could lunge if he had to. They watched the alpha for signs of consciousness the whole drive.

Peter took her straight to the basement when they got home.

Talia rubbed her eyes. “Okay. Derek, gather everyone who’s still around the house. Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson are out on patrol so just leave them be. I want them looking for any betas she may have made.”

Derek nodded and kicked off his shoes. It’d be easier to grab everyone in his fur anyway. He tossed his clothes onto the front porch and shifted. He started to dart out into the yard—

Stiles stepped in his path, frowning. He smelled nervous, confused, sweat dampening his temples and making his hair stick.

Derek looked up at him.

“Dude, where’s your white spot?” He touched his own right shoulder. 

Derek tilted his head to look up at Talia, flicking his ears. 

“What, Stiles?”

Stiles shook his head. “The white spot on Derek’s shoulder. What happened to it?” The acrid smell of panic crept into his scent.

“What are you talking about?” Talia asked sharply. “Derek’s coat has always been all black, like mine.”

Stiles shook his head again, heart pounding. Sweat beaded his face.

Derek whined and stepped closer to him.

Stiles flinched.

“Come inside,” Talia said slowly. “Derek, get the pack. Come sit down, Stiles.” She held her hand out until Stiles went to her. 

Derek flattened his ears, waiting until they were inside before he turned and began to hunt down the others. 

It was probably nothing. It was just fur, Stiles was obviously just misremembering. 

He couldn’t get the scent of Stiles’s panic out of his nose.


	21. Chapter 21

Stiles stayed where Talia had put him, though he wasn’t sure why. He tried to hear what she was saying, but she was murmuring, keeping her voice pitched just under even advanced hearing. He twisted his fingers in the hem of his shirt and bounced his foot lightly. 

He twitched when Talia returned from the kitchen with Adam. They both looked worried. “What’s-”

She shook her head. 

Laura filed in, followed by Erica, Cora, and Derek. Peter came up from the basement looking disgruntled. 

Stiles flushed. Was the majority of the pack really necessary? “What’s going on?” he blurted. “Derek’s coat probably just-”

Talia shook her head. “In a minute.” She looked at the pack. “I wanted to let you all know that we found an alpha on the property. Peter took her to the basement and restrained her for us.”

Laura frowned. “Was she the one turning people?”

Talia hesitated before she nodded. “We believe she’s _one of_ the alphas turning people.”

Stiles still didn’t understand how they knew it was only alphas turning people, but he was too freaked out to ask. He glanced at Derek, but he was watching Talia closely. He looked down at his knees. He _wasn’t_ remembering wrong: Derek had definitely had a white patch on his shoulder when Stiles had been changed. 

“We need to keep an eye out for anyone she might have been working with, including betas she may have created while running around.”

Cora nodded. “Boyd texted that he and the others might have seen something.”

“Okay, good. Thank you.” Talia glanced at Stiles and her expression cracked, revealing worry and fear. “Stiles, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” she asked slowly. 

Stiles shook his head. “Nothing’s _wrong_. I guess Derek just, I don’t know, grew out the white patch.”

Adam moved to crouch in front of Stiles. “Stiles,” he said gently, “you’re remembering wrong. Derek has never had any white in his fur.”

Stiles shook his head. “Yes, he did! I—I…” He pushed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I can’t remember seeing it recently, but the day I was bitten—the details are _burned_ into my brain.” His voice was bitter. 

Derek shuddered. 

Erica leaned up against his side, like she was comforting _him_.

Stiles glowered. 

Talia studied him, looking worried and strangely, a little afraid. “Can you walk us through it?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Can you walk us through the day you were bitten? Please. Maybe…” She glanced around the room. “Maybe there’s a detail we missed.” 

Adam moved back to her side slowly.

Stiles crossed his arms. “Why is it important?”

She pressed her lips together. “You feel torn, right? Sleepwalking, divided. Maybe we can figure out why.”

He sighed heavily. “Okay. Fine.” He rubbed his eyes and glanced at Derek, who was staring at his own lap. “After I left the house, I was walking. I have to _move_ when I’m getting a lot of info, it helps me process-”

“We know,” Erica muttered. 

He glared at her. “_Anyway_, I’d only been walking a little while, like ten minutes, before Derek found me.”

The air in the room became charged, nearly sparking with tension. 

Stiles looked around, confused, but couldn’t figure out why they were all tense. “Uh, he was in wolf form, black fur, white spot on his shoulder. I started t-talking to him,” he gulped, watching Talia’s tension grow, “and he, uh, grabbed my hand in his teeth.” He held up his right hand. “He didn’t bite that hard at first, but then he broke skin. It started burning. And…” He cowered when Talia’s eyes flashed and looked away quickly. 

Adam’s hand was over his mouth, eyes wide, face pale.

Stiles looked around the room. 

Everyone looked stunned, horrified—as if they hadn’t known this story already. 

Derek stood abruptly, nearly knocking Erica off the chair they’d been sharing. He left the room, then the house, without a word. 

“Stiles,” Peter said, loud in the shocked silence, “Derek has never had any white fur.” 

Stiles’s heart lurched; he felt dread, though he didn’t know why. It was just fur. “I-”

He shook his head. “And most importantly—beta werewolves can’t turn people.”

Stiles’s breath whooshed out of him. Something was roaring in his ears. “No. That’s not-”

“Only alphas can turn people. Where did you get the idea that betas could turn people?” Peter looked baffled. 

Stiles felt strange; the edges of his vision were red. The floor felt unsteady beneath his feet, like it was going to slide out from under him. “I-” He shook his head. Licked his lips. “I mean, books. Movies. One of my old professors from school—a history professor—had a bunch of lore and mythology books. He let me read them when I went home and asked.” He looked at Peter blankly. 

Peter tilted his head. “Books written by humans?” he asked slowly. 

Stiles flushed deeply. “I don’t know!”

“Did those books also say silver burned us and we’re forced to change on the full moon?”

Stiles’s hand jumped to the back of his neck. He rubbed it. “If Derek didn’t bite—change me, then who did?”

Talia pulled a hand through her hair, pacing. “We asked you when you were turning, but you kept saying Derek. We figured you were delirious and blaming him for bringing you here. We reminded you that Derek _couldn’t_ have, but…” She stopped in front of him. “But you were sick with fever, probably didn’t—didn’t retain that. It’s such common knowledge for us that I never considered you might not have realized.” She sounded furious at herself. 

“Okay, but who _did_ turn me?” Stiles blurted. He felt like he’d fallen into a sideways world, similar to his, but off-center. Everything looked the same, but the rules were different, common knowledge wasn’t what he thought it was.

Talia said, “We don’t know. I’ve thought about-” She reached for the back of his neck.

“_Don’t,_” he snarled, his voice guttural.

Talia stared at him, then slowly dropped her hand. 

Stiles realized the rest of the room had frozen. He shook his head again, sucking in sharp, uneven breaths. “So—so if you-” He inhaled, exhaled, tried to focus. “So if you all thought I _knew_ Derek didn’t change me, if you thought I remembered Talia telling me that only alphas could change people, why-” His voice broke. He swallowed and tried to breathe. This was his pack. He could talk. He could ask. “Why did you think I was so mad?”

Laura and Cora glanced at each other, then back at him. They looked as stunned stupid as he felt. 

Adam finally dropped his hand. He looked at Stiles. “We all thought you were angry,” he said deliberately, “about being a werewolf. We thought you just hated what you were now, hated what _we_ were.” 

Stiles’s breath whistled. He bent forward, trying to suck in air. He felt dizzy. He didn’t know if werewolves could faint, but he was giving it a good try. “I have to-” He gulped and straightened. “I have to take a walk.” He recognized the parallels between now and when he’d been changed but couldn’t help it. He needed air, and space, and time to figure out what the hell was happening. He couldn’t keep looking at their faces, smelling their shock and confusion. He had to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting this here to stave off anything rude or hurtful: have _you_ ever read any lore where only alpha werewolves can change people into werewolves? Because I haven't. I'd never heard of that until Teen Wolf. Considering this is an AU/alternate universe, Stiles, who lived in a world where werewolves are largely considered mythological beings, only had access to the fiction and human _lore_, which says that any werewolf can bite a victim and infect them with lycanthropy. It also says a lot of things that don't apply in this AU but I believe that's addressed. <3


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you enjoyed the reveal (: I'm still kind of editing as I go (the grammar and formatting anyway, some of the sentence structure; the rest of it is pfffttt so.) <3

Stiles walked briskly, flinging branches out of his way. He remembered his last panicked walk through the woods, struggling to make sense of a world where his boyfriend could turn into a huge wolf. Where his boyfriend could grow claws and his eyes could turn bright gold at will. Now he was here again, struggling to understand things that seemed impossible. 

Derek hadn’t turned Stiles. 

There was no doubt there; no way Stiles could refute it. The pack had been too shocked, too horrified, to be lying about it.

Stiles couldn’t remember much about the week he’d been turning. He was sick, feverish; his bones had felt fragile, his skin stretched too tight over his body. He’d slipped into his fur and back, random changes and seizures until he’d been screaming, begging someone to make it stop. 

Stiles sniffled and flinched when he smelled Derek, looking around, straining his ears, but couldn’t see or hear him. He looked up.

A shirt was caught in the branches of the tree nearest Stiles, carrying the scent of Derek down to him. 

He pressed a hand over his eyes and let his legs collapse under him, his breath shuddering in his chest. Tears poured from his eyes and sobs wracked him, left him breathless, and he hated himself a little, hated that he hadn’t known. Hated how cruel he’d been to his pack, thinking they were all assholes for forgiving Derek and treating Stiles like he was wrong. 

Stiles shook and curled in a ball, pressing his eyes against his knees. He thought back, and more tears leaked out of his eyes. 

The pack had been there for him, had been kind to him, had helped him, even while thinking he hated what they were. They’d been there for him from the beginning, unwavering, even when he wasn’t their responsibility, even though he’d broken Derek’s heart for something he hadn’t even done. They’d been there for him when he refused to look at them, had refused to speak to any of them but Peter.

Stiles swallowed and looked up, using his shirt to wipe his face of snot and tears. His head throbbed, his vision went fuzzy, and he felt a tug, deep in his chest, toward the road. His legs itched. It was the pull, sharp and insistent, to go back to the city. He gritted his teeth. No. Furious with himself, he dug his claws into the dirt next to his legs. He didn’t want to run away, didn’t want to leave the Hales. His pack.

The pressure eased. 

He relaxed, sagging against his knees, and rubbed his face. He didn’t know what to do now. He’d dumped the love of his life over what amounted to a ridiculously stubborn, selective memory. He’d treated his pack like traitors for nothing. 

Footsteps shuffled close to him, hesitant and soft, before stopping right in front of him.

He looked up.

Derek’s face was pale and tired, the corners of his mouth drawn down in either disapproval or disgust, Stiles couldn’t tell.

Stiles swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m sorry for everything. I didn't know you hadn’t…I didn’t know.” He scrubbed tears from his eyes impatiently. “I thought you just wanted me to be like you whether I wanted to be or not.” He dropped his gaze. He could hear Derek’s heart, beating just a little too fast, his breaths, just a little too shallow, and wanted to reach out. Wanted to make up for the time they’d lost. He looked up.

Derek’s face was tense but he'd relaxed noticeably, hands open at his sides rather than curled in defensive fists.

Stiles got to his feet. His throat felt raw, face hot and wet with tears. “I’m sorry for blaming you. I understand if you want to keep—keep your distance, after everything I did. I just—need you to know that was—it was the only thing, and some days I-” He shook his head. His eyes were watering again. “Anyway, I’m s-”

Derek grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into a hug.

Stiles shuddered and relaxed into his hold. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle and pressed his face against his shoulder, shivering again. Tears ran from his eyes, like he couldn’t stop them if he tried. It had taken so much effort and energy, making himself hate Derek. The bitter walls and defenses that betrayal had built had crumbled to dust the minute he realized the _one thing_ he hated Derek for wasn’t Derek’s doing. He’d missed him.

It seemed too easy, Derek forgiving him, holding him close, but Stiles was too wrung out to wonder when the other shoe was going to drop yet. 

He kept holding on, even as Stiles calmed down.

The fog in Stiles’s brain seemed to clear. He knew three things: He had to make up for his behavior to the pack, he had to make things right with Derek, and he had to find out who turned him and make them pay.


	23. Chapter 23

Derek didn’t want to let go of Stiles. He felt like he was dreaming, like any moment, he was going to wake up and find everything broken around him again. For now, he had Stiles in his arms, his scent in his nose, and an understanding of what had happened last year. He pressed his face against Stiles’s neck and inhaled. 

He smelled devastated, like the realization had broken something in him. He’d been crying, was still crying. 

Derek knew they had stuff to talk about, but just knowing Stiles didn’t hate him, his family, or what they were was enough for the moment. Derek rubbed circles between Stiles’s shoulders until he calmed down. 

Stiles sniffed and pulled away slowly, wiping his eyes and keeping his gaze lowered. “We—we should talk.” 

Derek nodded. That was true.

“But, um.” He swallowed audibly. “I think I need to go apologize to the pack and explain stuff to them first.”

Derek pressed their foreheads together. “Okay.”

Stiles sighed shakily. 

They walked back to the house side-by-side. Derek wanted to grab his hand, wanted to keep him close, but thought he wasn’t quite ready for that. 

Peter was in the basement with the alpha when they got inside. 

Otherwise, everyone was basically where they’d left them, probably discussing what’d just happened. Derek felt Adam scrutinizing their body language, gaze flicking between them, and tried not to shuffle his feet. 

Stiles cleared his throat and stepped up to Talia, still standing in the center of the room. “I wanted to apologize to everyone,” he said quietly. 

She frowned worriedly, but she stood aside, let him take the head of the room.

Stiles looked over Erica, then Laura and Cora, then Talia, Adam, and Derek last. He let out a quiet breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated everyone,” he said clearly. “I was angry at all of you because I really thought you all knew Derek had turned me against my will, and that you all thought I was wrong to be mad about it.” 

Erica leaned forward in her seat and bared her teeth. “You _should_ be mad about being attacked and being turned. Just not at Derek.” 

Stiles nodded. “Now that I know he didn’t turn me, I don’t really have anything to be mad at him about.” He licked his lips nervously. “Have plenty to be mad at myself about though.” His face went blank. 

Derek frowned when he just stood there. He glanced at Talia.

“Stiles?” she prompted. She stepped toward him, one hand already reaching out.

He shuddered and blinked. “Sorry. Uh. I just—feel sort of weird. I’m sorry for all of this, for making you guys think I hated you.” He looked ashamed. “I don’t hate you,” he said quietly.

“We’re sorry for not clearing things up sooner.” Laura bounced up and grabbed him in a headlock, and the rest of the pack filled in to hug and pat him.

It was nice. The pack was close and cuddly for the rest of the afternoon, save for Peter, who was watching their prisoner. For once, Stiles seemed to just accept the pack’s affection rather than begrudgingly putting up with it. He was relaxed and happy after dinner, leaning into Derek’s side like he’d never left. 

Derek felt like a puddle of contentment. When he stood to leave the living room, Stiles stood with him.

“Let’s talk,” he said.

Derek nodded. They went up to his room on the second floor, and Derek sat cross-legged on the bed, by the headboard. He was surprised but pleased when Stiles joined him. 

He sat cross-legged in front of him, setting his hands palms down on his own knees. 

“I hated you a little,” Derek admitted, in the spirit of honesty. “But only when you were especially cruel.”

Stiles nodded. “I spent a lot of time hating you, too.” He inhaled deeply. “Mostly because I still love you so much, and I thought you’d done this to me. It was hard to live with both of those things, so I hated you.” 

Derek’s heart raced. 

Stiles’s gaze flicked down to his chest and back up. He smiled wryly. “How could you not know?”

“You did a good job of making me believe you hated us.”

His smile fell. “Yeah, I know.” He picked at a rip in his jeans. “You know I don’t, right?” He inhaled sharply. “It was never about you not being human, or you being a werewolf. I think if I’d have had time to get used to it, we would’ve been fine. I would have thought it was cool.”

Derek nodded. It was good to hear straight out though.

“Okay. I can’t—obviously I can’t erase the last year. But I hope we can be-”

Derek held up a hand. “I’m still in love with you. So if you’re about to say we can be friends, at least take that into consideration.”

Stiles lifted a brow. “What if I did just want to be friends? A year is a long time.”

“A year is nothing. But,” Derek sighed, “if that’s what you want, I’ll have to get over it and be the best damn friend you could ask for.” 

Stiles smirked. “Scott just broke a pen somewhere in Maryland and doesn’t know why.” He sighed. “You’re lucky I’m just as dysfunctional and love struck as you,” he grumbled. 

“Yeah?”

“We should talk more,” he said.

“Uh-huh.” Derek caught his arm and tugged him closer. 

“Really. We spent a year fighting and being cruel to each other.” He went willingly as Derek stretched them out on the bed. “We should take things slow,” he added. “Date a little. Keep a little bit of distance while we figure this out.”

Derek kept him tucked close. “Sure. Talk to me. Tell me everything about you that I missed out on.”

Stiles bit his chest, making him jump. “Just for that, I’m going to. Be careful what you wish for.”

Derek grinned. As far as he was concerned, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.   



	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys enjoyed the previous chapter! <3 We've still got quite a few to go, but I hope you continue to enjoy.

Derek leaped over the creek and crouched low in the raised roots of a nearby tree, muscles quivering as he listened for the sounds of pursuit.

Stiles skidded into the water and snorted, then paused, just the sound of his racing heart and the gentle burbling of the creek filling the air.

Derek braced. 

Stiles yipped and raced toward him.

Derek scrambled out of the roots and ran.

They were playing around, burning some energy off and distracting Stiles, because he’d been sleepwalking again.

Derek had noticed him get out of bed sometime after two in the morning, stumbling drunkenly into the dresser on his way to the door. He’d kept him from wandering too far, and had helped him orient himself when he’d woken up. He could tell Stiles was frustrated about it. 

He’d been too jittery to go back to sleep, so they’d shifted in the backyard and had been running and playing at hunting each other ever since. 

Derek tilted his head back; he could tell the sun was up, even through the thick trees, but he didn’t have a good guess for the time. 

Stiles tackled him while he was distracted. 

Derek yelped as they rolled. He shifted back and got his hands around Stiles’s forelegs, then reversed them, pinning Stiles with his human bulk.

Stiles shifted back. “Cheater!” he laughed, yanking his wrists free and kissing him, setting his hands on Derek’s chest. 

Derek stopped fighting for the upper-hand and cupped Stiles’s face, thrilled all over again that he _could_ do this.

Stiles sighed happily against his mouth and hooked one leg over Derek’s hips to rock up against him. 

Derek growled, then pulled away to mouth at Stiles’s throat. “I thought we were taking things slow,” he said, licking at Stiles’s pulse.

Stiles tipped his head back. “We are,” he murmured.

Derek scraped his fangs over his neck, then bit his jaw hard enough to bruise. 

Stiles moaned. “You never used to bite that hard.” He grinned when Derek bit him again. “I always wanted to bite you, too.” 

Derek nuzzled against his throat. “Do it,” he urged, then gasped when Stiles flipped them. He smirked up at him. 

Stiles straddled his thighs and smiled sweetly. “Any preferences for that bite, lover?” he growled. 

Derek yanked him in for a kiss. 

They stumbled together to the creak to clean up afterward, hands trailing against each other’s skin, fingers tangling, palms skating up and down their sides. Stiles complained about the cold water the entire time, shivering exaggeratedly while he splashed.

“You are the _whiniest_ werewolf I know.” Derek kicked water at him.

Stiles pressed a palm to his heart. “That’s saying something, considering who your cousin is.”

Derek laughed. “Come on, Dad’s probably making breakfast.”

Stiles sighed noisily, but followed him out of the creek. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned fiercely. “Ugh. I’m so sick of this sleepwalking bullshit,” he muttered. 

“Is there, maybe, a doctor…?” Derek didn’t even know where to go with that sentence. 

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He rubbed the heel of his hand against his sternum, scowling. “I _still_ feel like I’m being pulled in two directions. It hasn’t been as strong as usual lately, but it’s still _there_. Still tugging at me. I…” He shrugged jerkily. 

“What?”

He glanced at Derek and away. “It’s weird. I dream about _something_, I have, like, a destination when I’m sleeping, but as soon as I wake up, it’s gone. It feels so _urgent_ though.”

Derek rubbed the back of his hand soothingly. “We’ll talk to Mom about it, see what she thinks. I bet-” He paused, frowning.

Stiles’s brows furrowed, then he shrugged, his expression clearing. “It’s probably Isaac and Erica doing a quick patrol or something.” 

“Right,” Derek said slowly. The voices were faint, enough that he couldn’t tell whether he recognized them or not. They were definitely on their property, though, so it was most likely part of the pack. 

Stiles was probably right. Everyone in Beacon Hills knew where Hale property was. 

Derek shook his head. They kept walking back toward the house. “I was saying, I bet Mom will have _some_ idea of what it is.”

“I’ve talked to her about it before. She said I was fighting my instincts, but that was…that was when everyone thought I hated you all.” Stiles scratched his hip, where a missed patch of mud had dried. “I don’t feel like I am, though! It’s—oh.” He stopped dead. 

Derek paused beside him and followed his gaze. 

A group of about twelve hikers gaped at them from no more than ten feet away. 

“This is private property,” Derek said. 

“I’ll say,” a woman muttered. 

Derek stepped to the side, shielding Stiles from view. Nudity didn’t bother most werewolves, but he didn’t want Stiles to get upset. 

Stiles leaned in and whispered, “Twenty minutes earlier and they’d have gotten a hell of a show.”

Derek fought to keep a straight face. 

One of the hikers, a man who looked vaguely familiar, stepped forward, focusing very hard on Derek’s face. “We’re conducting a search for a missing woman from town. Patricia Frank.” He scowled when Derek kept staring at him, unimpressed. “The last few people who’ve gone missing have turned up on your property.”

The back door slammed open.

Derek smirked. 

Stiles snickered behind him. 

Talia stalked up to them, barely sparing Derek or Stiles a glance. She glared at the hikers, especially the man up front. “Hello, Deputy Blithely.” 

He paled. 

“Sheriff Stilinski is on his way to deal with trespassers. I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear about your involvement, Deputy. Boys, go get dressed,” she added more calmly. 

Derek let Stiles go first, walking behind him in an attempt to shield him from sight. 

“Are you guarding my ass?” he asked.

“Yep. Move it.”

They gathered their clothes as well as they could and headed inside instead of fumbling to get dressed in the yard. 

“Why were they naked anyway?” one of the hikers demanded of Talia.

“This is their home. We have no close neighbors, and the _public_ trails are well out of sight. They’re allowed to dress how they please.”

Stiles laughed as he hitched his sweatpants up. He sobered a second later. “We have the alpha. You think her betas are still killing people?”

Peter entered the kitchen. He reeked of blood. “Patricia Frank isn’t dead. She was changed.”

Derek glanced at Stiles. 

He crossed his arms. “Now what?”

Peter went to the sink to wash his hands. “Get dressed. We need to wait until Sheriff Stilinski is done with the trespassers, but after that, we need to find her.”


	25. Chapter 25

Stiles and Erica went to track down Patricia while Derek and Laura were sent to go speak to Satomi Ito. She was the closest ally they had, and a fairly close friend of their mother’s, and needed to be warned about what was going on. She’d known all of the Hale kids since they were young, and Derek had always thought of her as a sort of surrogate aunt.

Laura drove. She’d been quiet about the misunderstanding revelation, but Derek knew she was only waiting for something. “So.”

Ah. She’d wanted him alone. “So?”

“The Stiles thing is kinda crazy, right?” She glanced at him briefly.

He shrugged. “Makes sense. If you go off of human beliefs, they have plenty of lore that says any bite from werewolves will change people. Books, movies, music, TV shows.”

“That’s all _fiction._”

“That’s what they think we are.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She tapped her fingers on the wheel. “Okay, I see your point. I saw his, too. I just.” She sighed through her nose.

“What?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She shrugged. “Or Stiles, I guess. You’ve been really…”

Derek turned away. “He was _it_ for me. That was going to take a while to get over, especially with _how_ it ended.” 

“Exactly. What happens if you guys break up again?”

Derek cringed. He didn’t want to think about that possibility, but he knew it _was_ a possibility. “It would suck. I would be devastated. But that’s a possibility with every relationship. At least this time I would understand what was going on.”

Laura huffed. 

“I love him, and I want to risk it,” he said flatly.

Laura let out a startled laugh. “Well. There’s no arguing with that, I guess.” She sighed again. “I feel bad for him, too. Imagine thinking someone you loved did that to you. And then thinking all of us thought it was okay.” She shook her head. “He must have felt…”

“I think that’s why I let it go so quickly,” Derek admitted. “Because at least I had all of you on my side. He thought he was alone, after that trauma. That must have been awful for him.”

Laura nodded, her expression drawn tight with guilt. “That’s true. I know you’re both adults and that you can deal with it how you want. It’s just that you’re my brother, and I love you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know. I appreciate that. We…” He glowered out the window, hating that he felt like a teenager again. “We, uh, agreed to take things slow for the moment.”

Laura pursed her lips. “Uh-huh.” 

“And that’s it, thanks for asking.”

She shrugged. “Okay, done with your love life. Got it. So, how close did those hikers come to seeing you two having sex?”

“Fucking Christ, Laura!”

“What?” she laughed. “You guys aren’t exactly stealthy!” 

He glared at her. “Twenty minutes,” he grumbled. 

Laura crowed with laughter. 

Satomi’s pack lived further south than the Hale pack; she also lived close to the city, with less wooded area to run around in. Derek had expected Stiles to try to join Satomi’s pack for a while since he was doing fine in the city away from the woods and the pack. 

But Cora, Laura, even Isaac had told Talia several times over the last year how badly Stiles was doing out in the city. 

Derek felt bad _now_ for being vindictively pleased about that at the time. 

Satomi’s grandson, Owen, met them in the driveway. He grinned at them, lifting a hand in a friendly wave. “Hey, Laura! Long time no see.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Grandma’s inside.” He waited in the yard while they approached.

“Thanks.”

“So how’ve you been?” Owen asked, walking backwards to keep his gaze on them. He was wearing a green collared shirt and khakis, his straw colored hair brushed neatly for once. 

“We’re okay,” Laura said. She swept her gaze over him. “Job interview?”

He grinned. “How’d you know?” He was barefoot, and seemed to notice at the same time Derek did. “It’s not for another two hours, so my sisters are helping me find some shoes that are appropriate.” He shrugged and loped up the porch stairs.

They followed him into the house; it was large and sprawling, like most pack houses, but somewhat bigger than the Hale house, with more than two generations in it. Some packs split up as people married into other packs or started their own, but the Ito pack had stuck together for several generations. Pictures cluttered each wall they passed, with bits of art and children’s drawings mixed in.

Satomi was waiting in the breakfast nook for them, holding a steaming mug between her palms. She smiled when she saw them, though her eyes were shrewd—she knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” Laura greeted with a wide returning smile.

“Hi.” Derek shuffled his feet beside her. 

“Hello. Have a seat.” She lifted her cup. “Coffee?” 

“No, thank you. Mom just wanted us to fill you in.”

She nodded. “She told me some of what’s going on, but we’ve never been completely comfortable sharing details over the phone.”

“Right, she’s told us that, too.” Laura sat beside Derek at the table, closer to Satomi.

Satomi folded her hands on the table. 

“Peter talked to the mutt clan near Franklin, and we caught an alpha in our territory that’s been changing people. Mom thinks she’s working with another alpha and that they’re both indiscriminately changing people.”

Satomi tipped her head. 

“Some of them are dying of bite rejection,” Derek said. “The others aren’t being taught to control themselves or anything about what they are. We…uh…”

Laura shook her head. “Couple man eaters. Some of the bodies were chewed on.”

Satomi’s lip curled. “I see.”

“The bodies are being dumped on our property. We think the alphas are recruiting for a territory dispute, but we don’t know for sure if they’re aiming for us, or trying to throw us off and then attack you. We also don’t know why they’re changing people instead of preparing their own pack for the fight.” 

Satomi nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you. We’ll keep an eye out. And if you need help, let us know. We’ll help if the alphas decided to attack you.”

“Thank you, Satomi,” Laura sighed. “And of course, if they come your way instead, you’ll have our help.”

Satomi nodded again, her brows furrowed. “You said the dead are being dumped on and around your property, right?”

“Yes.”

She frowned worriedly. “Tell Talia to look into her enemies. It seems very personal, trying to turn the humans of the town against you.”

The drive home was tense. Derek tried to think of his mother’s enemies, anyone who was angry enough to kill people and try to frame her for it. Most of her “enemies” were just people she’d annoyed, as far as he knew. Nothing bad enough for this. He looked at Laura, but she seemed to be lost in thought, too. 

Talia was helping Boyd and Erica clean up after dinner when they got home. “Has Satomi heard anything?”

Derek shook his head. “She didn’t even really know what was going on, so it’s only happening here.”

Laura went on to explain everything they’d talked about and what Satomi had said. 

Erica scowled. “We couldn’t find Patricia, but we found a body in the preserve. Not on our property this time, but close enough to be suspicious.”

Derek lifted his brows. 

She rolled her eyes. “Officially, it was reported as an animal attack. Unofficially, that bitch downstairs created another fucking man-eater and let it loose in our territory.” 

Derek’s stomach churned with disgust.

“Yeah, it’s awful. Stiles wanted to keep looking for her, but Talia doesn’t want us connected to this many of the bodies as it is.” 

“Where is he?” he asked casually. 

Boyd, who’d been filled in on the situation, muffled a snort. “He’s annoying Jackson, as usual.”

Derek knocked into his shoulder. 

“Thank you for going,” Talia said. She rubbed her eyes. “I’ll look into enemies, see if anyone stands out.” She sighed. “That was basically what Sheriff Stilinski said, too.”

“Okay. Are we still patrolling tonight?” Derek asked. 

Talia shook her head. “We’ll be doing shifts keeping watch over the alpha in the basement instead. Peter says she hasn’t spoken.”

Stiles burst into the kitchen from the backdoor. He froze briefly, then grinned. He had blood in his teeth and his shirt was ripped. 

Talia sighed. 

“Jackson may have caught me. Isaac!” he shouted suddenly. “Run!” 

“_What?!_” Jackson shouted, outraged, from outside. 

There was a thump from Jackson’s room.

Derek laughed. “What are you guys doing?”

“Nope, nothing.” Stiles ducked around Erica. He put his head under the faucet and slurped some water to clean the blood out of his mouth. 

Isaac ran down the stairs, past the kitchen, and to the front door.

Jackson snarled. 

“He’s gonna catch him,” Erica scoffed. 

“No way! He’s got a head start.” 

Isaac yelped. 

Stiles shook his head. 

Talia looked at all of them, then just walked away. 

Derek couldn’t blame her. 

Stiles crawled into bed with Derek late that night. Derek thought maybe he was sleepwalking, until he heard his heart pounding, until he smelled how excited he was. 

“What are you doing?” Derek whispered. 

Stiles shrugged, eyes gleaming. He wiggled under the blanket. 

Derek felt sharp teeth on his inner thigh and hissed. Then he inhaled sharply when Stiles licked his cock. “Stiles-”

He hummed under the blanket, and Derek couldn’t help breaking into laughter. Stiles flipped the blanket off and grinned at him. “No?”

“_Yes._” 

“Oh good.” He scratched lightly down Derek’s thighs, watching him get hard. He finally reached out, helping the process along. He licked around his fingers as he stroked him, closing his eyes. 

Derek grabbed at the sheets, trying to hold still. “What, uh. What.”

Stiles grinned. “I was falling asleep,” he said, squeezing gently, “and I couldn’t stop thinking about how…” He stroked Derek, pulled his hand away, and changed his position. “Kept thinking about how we haven’t done anything fun in your bed yet.” Then he ducked down, licking and kissing and sucking until Derek was baring fangs at him.

“Would you-”

Stiles kissed his hip, then ducked in and closed his mouth over him.

Derek sighed, dropping his head back. He jumped when Stiles laughed around him.

They fell asleep curled up together, sticky and sweaty and exhausted in just the right way.


	26. Chapter 26

Light flashed and Stiles blinked his eyes open. He was shivering, barefoot and standing in the middle of the road. The flash of light had been the street lamp he’d walked under turning on. He rubbed his arms, trying to chafe some warmth into them. He felt a tug, sharp and intense, urging him to go forward, in the direction he’d been walking. He had no idea where he’d been going, but he’d been trying really hard to get there. He ground his teeth together.

The tug in his chest was strange; like he had two fishing lines hooked in him. One urged him forward, away, while the other felt more like his anchor, his pack and their bonds. 

He curled his hands in his hair, pulling, and glanced down to discover he was wearing only boxers. He took them off so he could shift, letting out a long, relieved breath as he tumbled into his fur. This way, it was a little easier to shake off that other pull. He started walking, letting his head hang, paws dragging along the dirt. He hated this fucking sleepwalking, he hated feeling like he was in the wrong place, he _hated_ that he had a psychic wire tugging him away from where he belonged. He just wanted to go home. 

A car pulled up behind him.

He heard Talia talking and whined, shifting from foot to foot anxiously, before reluctantly sitting down and hovering on his haunches.

Talia, Derek, and Laura got out of the car. Talia crouched in front of him, her eyes and mouth tense. “Are your clothes nearby?” 

He looked over his shoulder. 

Derek jogged up the road and retrieved Stiles’s shorts, frowning as he returned with them. 

Stiles really hadn’t made it that far from where he'd woken up. 

“Come on. We’ll drive you home.” 

Stiles shifted back, muttering a thanks and putting his shorts back on. 

The drive was quiet; it was near four in the morning, so everyone was tired. Stiles spent the ride with his head on Derek’s shoulder, dozing. 

When they got home, Adam was making tea for himself, bustling around the kitchen like he was trying to keep busy. He wordlessly put a glass of ice water on the table for Talia, smiling when she murmured her thanks. He looked at Stiles sadly when they followed her into the dining room. “Anyone want any tea?”

Stiles shook his head. 

“Laura, Derek, why don’t you go back to bed?” Talia suggested. “I’d like to talk to Stiles.”

Derek looked irritated, so Laura dragged him out of the room herself. 

Stiles sat at the table across from Adam, keeping his head down when Talia sat next to him. “I don’t know why,” he said before she could speak. “I thought…you know, I thought now that I knew what really happened, this feeling would go away.”

Talia set her hand on his arm. “I’ve been doing some reading.” She paused until he looked at her. “I think I know why you’re feeling like this. Most of the time, when people are bitten without knowing the alpha, they either join that alpha’s pack, or they become mutts.”

Adam cleared his throat. 

Talia winced. “Sorry. I mean, they choose to stay pack-less. The bond with the one who changed them fades, because they reject it. I think your other alpha-”

Stiles jolted. It felt _wrong_, even just hearing it.

She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “I think he’s calling for you.” 

“I don’t understand.” He looked between Talia and Adam. “How? _Why?_ I don’t want another alpha.”

“It’s possible that you not even knowing that another alpha was responsible meant you didn’t reject the bond.”

Stiles pulled away, studying her face. “Do you believe that?”

Her gaze flickered over him. “I believe something is wrong, and that this is a possibility. I believe your bond to the alpha who changed you is still there somehow.”

Stiles shook his head. “_You’re_ my alpha.” He felt a pull in his chest, painful for the first time, and gripped the seat of his chair. He felt like he had to hold himself in place. “How do I get rid of the other one?” His fangs had dropped, his voice going guttural with desperation.

“You’re probably well on your way to rejecting it already,” Adam said gently. “You could try meditating.” 

Stiles relaxed enough to let out a dry laugh. “Yeah.”

Adam smiled wryly. “That’s probably not the best option for you, I guess.” 

“No, not really.” 

Talia squeezed Stiles’s shoulder. “Now that you’re aware, you can actively reject it. Fight against the pull you feel. And we could try some other stuff. You and I can bond a bit, strengthen our tether.” 

Stiles squinted at her. “How?”

She smiled widely. 

Stiles gulped.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying! <3 I'm _still_ editing bits of this as I go but I mean. It's just. What it is. So.

Derek helped Stiles step over the lip of the tub, biting back laughter. He knew he _shouldn’t_ laugh, but there was just something about his sixty-seven year old mother beating his boyfriend in a play fight that was hilarious to him. Alpha-beta bonding was always interesting, to say the least. 

“Laugh it up,” Stiles groaned. “Oh my god, I’m sore _everywhere_, what the hell.”

“You guys were out there for six hours,” Derek said. He laughed, then sealed his lips together when Stiles glared him. 

Stiles sighed. “I do feel better.” He grinned. “I don’t feel any kind of pull at all!” 

Derek smiled at him. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too.” He grunted as he leaned over to turn on the hot water. 

Derek laughed. 

Stiles flicked water at him. “Are you going to help me or just laugh at me? I can barely lift my arms.” 

Derek figured he could do both, and got in to help Stiles wash off the sweat he’d built up. He helped him dry off, too, sitting him on the toilet to towel-dry his hair. He paused. “You aren’t even sore anymore, are you?”

“Nope.” He grinned. 

Derek tugged his hair, making him yelp, before finishing up. He grinned down at him. “I love you,” he said, because he did.

Stiles sighed, content. “I love you, too.”

“That’s great, boys, but I need to talk to you,” Peter said through the door. 

Derek closed his eyes. 

Stiles just laughed. “Be right there.” 

“We’ll talk outside.” 

Derek lifted a brow and looked at Stiles. 

He shrugged. “’Kay!” 

They got dressed in Derek’s room, exchanging biting kisses and hard, bruising embraces. Stiles bit Derek’s lip hard enough to draw blood, then laughed in his mouth while they kissed; Derek grasped him by the backs of his thighs and hitched him up, fingers digging into the skin until he left bruises. Stiles nuzzled under his throat and said, “We better go outside before Peter comes to find us.”

Derek grumbled under his breath and let him down. “Fine.”

Stiles finished getting dressed while Derek zipped his jeans. He swiped his phone from the bed and checked his messages, nudging Derek with his shoulder. “Dad has texted me like four times.” He grimaced and started walking.

Derek made sure he didn’t walk into anything as they headed downstairs and through the house. 

“I should go see him. I’m a terrible son,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, you’re the worst, trying to prevent murders,” Derek drawled. 

Stiles kicked his ankle, then tripped down the porch steps. 

Peter sighed noisily. “I wanted to talk out here so the alpha can’t hear us.”

Stiles pocketed his phone. “Okay.” He looked around. “_Just_ us?”

“I’ve already spoken to Talia, and Erica was with me as I questioned her. There’s something odd going on with her. I’ve never met her, but she knows my name. She knows us.”

Stiles held his hands out. “She could have been repeating names she’s heard while down there.” He crossed his arms. 

Peter shook his head, glowering. “She knows what college Jackson is attending, where you work, and the car Talia drove in college. She _knows_ us.” 

“Or she’s been stalking us. Listen long enough to someone and you’ll hear _everything_ about them.” 

Derek heard something moving in the woods and frowned, tipping his head. He crept closer, stepping around some of the lawn chairs and toward the trees. He spotted a pair of Isaac’s shorts caught in some brush and shook his head.

Something heavy stamped closer, breathing hard like a wounded horse.

Derek braced to chase.

Peter said, “We’d have known if she was watching us.”

Stiles shifted his feet. “So maybe she’s working with someone who does know us?”

“That’s the conclusion I came to. I just don’t know who. Derek,” Peter snapped, making him jump and snapping his focus. “Don’t wander off alone.”

“I’m not six,” he muttered. He walked back over to them, though he kept half of his attention on the sounds. Whatever it was would probably wander away soon, but just in case. “Who knows what school Jackson goes to?”

Peter scowled. “As few people as possible, as far as I know. There are even fewer people who know that _and_ that Talia drove a bright orange Plymouth Superbird in college.”

Stiles choked and laughed. “A _what?!_”

“It was the seventies.” Peter shrugged. “The point is, I don’t tell people these things, and everyone in the pack knows I would rather people _not_ know where my son goes to school. So how does _she_ know these things?”

Derek was still listening to the sounds in the woods. The noises were way too big for the usual rabbit or bird, too loud for a deer, and they were getting closer.

“Did you have to force the information from her? She probably wasn’t supposed to tell you she knew that, which means she’s gathering-”

Peter shook his head. “She offered it up, like she was taunting me.”

“So-”

A woman burst from the trees. 

Derek stepped forward automatically, baring his teeth. 

She had blood all over her face, gold, bloodshot eyes, and-

“Is that-” Peter started. 

The woman swung her arm up and fired the gun clutched in her shaking, clawed hand.

The bullet struck Derek’s upper arm, knocking him back a step. 

Peter lunged. 

Derek looked down at the wound; it throbbed and burned, but there were no poison lines. 

Peter broke the woman’s neck. 

Stiles put one hand on Derek’s shoulder and used the other to dig the bullet out of his arm. 

Derek clenched his jaw to keep from shouting. 

Stiles studied the bloody bullet. “Weird.” 

“What?” Derek asked through his teeth. 

“She used a regular bullet. No wolfsbane.” He swung around. 

Peter was already going through her pockets. “No ID on her. I don’t recognize her.” 

“Me neither. Maybe she wasn’t local?”

Derek rubbed his arm as it healed. “Why would she just walk up and start shooting people she doesn’t know?”

“Plenty of humans do that,” Stiles muttered.

“Because she was sent here by someone who does know us.” Peter rubbed his face. “Stiles, go send Erica out here to help me with this.” He frowned down at the gun.

“What?”

“Whoever is biting them isn’t educating them at all. I almost wonder if they just told her to try to kill us, and she got the gun herself. Or if-” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen an alpha behave this way. Even the ones biting indiscriminately are just trying to build a pack.”

Stiles frowned. “How do you get mutts then?”

“Disbanded packs, decided to leave the pack, loners, on occasion a crazed alpha trying to create a pack but ends up driving them away, or someone like you without a pack nearby to help you. People who ran from the crazed alpha and kept running. This…is weird.” Peter stood. “Get Erica, then go back inside. We’re going on a drive tomorrow night. Get some rest.” 

Stiles nodded seriously. 

Derek followed him inside. “Do you want me to go with you guys tomorrow?”

“Nope. I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

“And you don’t mind it.” 

“They’re just a little more animal than us.” Stiles shrugged. 

Derek had gone with Peter to the mutt clan once. It’d made him sad for them, made him want to tell them if they’d all take care of each other, bond, they’d become a pack, too. But he knew a lot of them were there because they didn't want that. Some weren’t but those ones eventually found a pack who took them in, or even started one themselves. 

Derek put his arm around Stiles’s waist as they headed to his room. He was glad Stiles hadn’t decided to leave the pack.   



	28. Chapter 28

Stiles could hear the mutts long before they reached the clan. They were noisy and restless, growls, barks, and yips echoing clearly through the woods. It was strange; they weren’t normally so loud. He glanced at Peter.

His face was impassive. 

A wolf snarled as they grew near, the sound echoing ominously. It lunged out of the trees, ears back, teeth bared.

Stiles met it in a tackle. He caught its muzzle and squeezed, then threw it 

The wolf yelped as it slammed back-first into a tree. It hit the ground with a high, long whine.

Two more greeted them with their heads lowered between their shoulders. Their muzzles wrinkled, baring their fangs. 

Stiles slipped into his half-shift, baring his own teeth. He flicked his claws out and growled, stalking forward.

Erica snarled, vicious, beside him. 

Peter just watched. 

The wolves advanced. The bigger of the two snapped its teeth, tail stiff behind it.

Stiles rolled forward onto the balls of his feet. 

A sharp bark made the two wolves flinch. A red wolf trotted up to Stiles, nosed at his leg, flicked her tail, and turned. She glanced back at Stiles. 

“Yeah, we’re coming.” They walked past the other two without much incident. 

One sniffed at Erica a little too closely, making her snap her teeth at him.

He cowered backwards, ears flat.

Peter didn’t speak as the red wolf led them through groups of werewolves, fully or partially shifted. 

Stiles looked around. It looked somehow more chaotic than usual, louder and more violent, if possible. There were wolves who weren’t play fighting, weren’t respecting boundaries or reading the body language of the other wolves.

The red wolf stopped and sat. 

A gray wolf looked at them. He shifted, and the old man from before blinked at Peter. He looked at the red wolf. “Go stop Belle,” he muttered.

She took off. 

“I was just sending you a message,” he told Peter. 

“Oh?”

“We’ve been getting an unusual amount of wolves wandering around here and…” He gestured at the group. “They don’t know anything that they should. Like whoever turned them didn’t even try.” 

Peter frowned at a wolf who was watching them, radiating a smug and confrontational air. He cut his gaze toward Erica. 

She laughed and sauntered over to the wolf. They started fighting. 

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Something else is off, too, isn’t it?” He looked at the man. 

He sighed deeply and nodded. “Yeah. We were trying to figure out what.” 

“Did you?”

He looked uneasy. “We think their memories have been tampered with.” 

At the car, Stiles scratched his nose on his shoulder. His sinuses were burning, making his eyes sting. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can we go?” he muttered. 

“Give me a sec, I’m trying to get the keys,” Erica said. She looked at Peter while digging through her pockets. “I didn’t know alphas could tamper with people’s memories.”

He lifted a brow. “They normally don’t, unless a human finds out something they shouldn’t and can’t deal with it or be trusted to keep the secret. Or if they’re abusing their power, they can use it on their betas.”

Stiles rubbed his neck. “Can we go?” he repeated loudly.

Erica shook the keys in his face. 

Peter looked at him strangely before he got in the car. 

Stiles wanted to go _home._

He went straight to his room upon arrival. He still felt off-balance and dazed from their meeting with the mutts. He needed to turn in an article before Charles got impatient and demanded he come back to work. Plus, it would have the added bonus of giving him something else to think about for a while, which he desperately needed. 

By the time he hit send, Stiles felt a little better, more present. He stretched and cocked his head, listening to the rest of the household. 

Cora, Isaac, Boyd, and Derek were in the living room arguing about cooking shows, Talia and Adam were in the kitchen snacking on leftovers, and it sounded like Erica was in the basement with Peter and the alpha. 

Derek muttered something that made Boyd laugh, then the couch squeaked as he stood. 

Stiles listened to him move closer and closer, until he paused outside of his door. 

He knocked lightly. “Can I come in?”

The Hales were all impeccably polite about bedrooms, Stiles had noticed. “Yes.” He closed his laptop and stood as the door opened.

Derek just looked at him for a second. “You good?”

“Yeah. Think I’m just tired.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He stepped toward Derek, then hesitated. 

Derek moved forward and held his arms out. 

Stiles sighed and tipped into his embrace. 

Derek nuzzled against the side of his neck, inhaling deeply.

Stiles’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He sighed and closed his eyes. 

Derek nudged him lightly. “Could be your dad.” 

“Don’t be logical at me.”

He nudged him again. 

Stiles sighed and pulled the phone out. He had two texts from Scott. He rubbed his cheek against Derek’s shoulder and stepped away. He flicked open the texts to read, and felt a grin split his face involuntarily. “It isn’t Dad,” he said as he typed out a response. He looked up, beaming, after he sent the message. 

Derek smiled back.

“Scott’s coming home finally!”

The smile drifted off Derek’s face.

Stiles swallowed; Scott disliked all of the Hales on principle, and Derek most of all, based on what Stiles had told him. He touched Derek’s hand apologetically. “I promise I’ll explain everything to him. He’s just—under the same misconceptions I was.”

Derek nodded, managing another smile. It was a pale imitation of his other one.

Stiles clenched his hands at his sides, guilt settling on his shoulders until he felt he could crumble under the weight. 

Derek kissed him, which made it easy to ignore the problem. “We have to patrol tonight,” he whispered. “Mom wants us to take Isaac with.”

“Hmmm, okay.” He licked Derek’s bottom lip and drew him closer for another kiss. They’d get ready to patrol in a minute.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _think_ I've found a way to fix what was bothering me. If that's the case, FASTER POSTINGS! If not...I will continue to work on it until I give up and retreat into my writing cave after just flinging up what we end up with for your reading, er, pleasure.

Aside from patrolling the town for rogue wolves, Talia was trying to find old enemies and kept drawing blanks; meanwhile Peter was turning the house uninhabitable. He was trying to get information out of the alpha in the basement, but she was strong-willed, and Peter was getting…creative. 

Erica helped him on occasion, but Stiles never did. He was usually right there with those two, but he hated the basement. 

It made Derek sad for him; Erica, Boyd, and Isaac had all been bitten and changed, but they’d known everything up front. They’d even toured the basement cells, had known how painful and exhausting the process of turning could be. Stiles hadn’t gotten that, and now he avoided even the basement stairs. 

“She’s not gonna talk,” Stiles said flatly. 

They were in the living room. The scent of blood was drifting up from the basement and had chased most of the pack into the yard or up to the second floor. 

Stiles wasn’t bothered much by it, just the basement itself. 

“How can you tell?”

He shrugged. “She’s lasted this long. If she was going to say anything, I think she’d have negotiated her release, or tried to, by now.”

Derek hummed. “Okay.”

Stiles shot him an amused look. “We can go outside.”

“If you want.” Derek didn’t want to listen to Peter making even-voiced promises of violence, but if Stiles could handle this, so could he.

Stiles sighed noisily and dragged him outside. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” He sat in a lawn chair. 

Stiles ran his fingers through Derek’s hair.

His eyes closed automatically. 

“Act like something isn’t bothering you when it is. Like you offered to go visit the mutts.”

Derek shrugged. “Got used to it.” His eyes popped open when he realized what he’d said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Stiles smiled wanly. “I know what you meant. I was miserable, too.”

Derek reached up and caught his hand to tug him closer. 

Stiles leaned down, eyes half shut, and froze. His eyes opened, flaring gold. “Someone’s here.”

Derek cocked his head. 

“Hold _still!_” a woman snarled. “You’re just making it worse. Come with me.” She snarled again, then someone yelped in pain. 

Stiles twisted and ran for the trees. 

Derek chased him.

Someone was crying in ragged, harsh sobs, while the woman growled. 

They came upon a man and a woman. She was standing over him while he hunched in on himself, whimpering and gasping. 

Stiles kept running.

The woman looked up, eyes glowing gold when she noticed him. She swore and bolted. 

Stiles flew after her. 

Derek skidded to a stop next to the man. 

He whimpered. 

“It’s okay, are you okay? We heard you guys running.”

He shook his head, gulping in air. “She and some—some guy grabbed me a couple hours ago—ugh.” He bent forward and puked. He was trembling all over. “I got away—but—” He groaned in pain and thrust his arm up.

Derek swore. 

Stiles ran back to them. “She’s gone now.” He wiped blood off his mouth. 

“Did the woman bite you?” Derek asked urgently, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. 

The man shook his head. He cried out, clutching his bitten arm against his chest. 

Stiles’s eyes went wide. “She wasn’t-”

“The man,” he groaned. “It was the man. His eyes were strange-” He convulsed, eyes rolling back to the whites. 

Derek grabbed him before he could hit the ground. “I have to take him to Mom.” 

Stiles nodded. “Send Erica to help me with the beta’s body.”

Derek ran for the house. He had to keep his arms clasped tightly around the man to keep from dropping him as he shook and screamed. 

Talia met him outside. “Who-” 

“We found him in the woods. I think they intended to keep him but he escaped.”

Talia took him and ran for the house. 

While Stiles and Erica dealt with the body, Laura called Satomi for Talia. They needed the man far away from his alpha to break their bond. 

Derek and Adam stayed in the kitchen. “Why do they keep ending up _here?_” Derek muttered. 

Adam shook his head. “Beats me. The bodies, I…almost understand. They’re trying to cast suspicion on us, making the humans in town wary of us. It wouldn’t matter if we won a territory dispute if the town pushed us out.”

Derek crossed his arms.

Adam squeezed his shoulders. “It’s not going to happen.”

Jackson and Cora came in, Jackson with his face set in an annoyed scowl, Cora looking exasperated. She elbowed him lightly. 

He sighed. “I have exams soon,” he muttered. 

Adam rubbed his face. “I’ll have to ask Talia, but what if we send you back with some of Satomi’s betas?”

He made a face. 

“Or you can defer until next semester.”

“Satomi has two grandkids your age,” Cora said. “Remember Brent and Owen?”

“Yeah, fine. Thanks.” He left the room. 

Adam dropped his hands. “It is _uncanny_ how much he’s like Peter when he was that age.”

Derek snorted. 

They all went quiet as Talia came up from the basement. “He’s fine,” she said. “Or as fine as anyone going through the change can be.” 

Laura came into the kitchen. “Satomi said she’ll take him once he’s done changing.”

“Good. Thank you.” Talia shook her head. “When I find the person doing this…” 

She trailed off, but no one needed her to finish. They all felt the same.


	30. Chapter 30

Stiles met Scott at the Beacon Breakfast. It was the cheapest diner in town, open 24 hours, and had the best omelets in the world. They’d been meeting there since they were kids. Their mothers used to meet there, too, and had started bringing Scott and Stiles when they were around four. 

“Hey!” Scott grabbed him as soon as he was within arms’ reach.

Stiles squeezed carefully. He’d been worried about accidentally breaking Scott’s bones since he’d turned. They’d never exactly been gentle with each other, and now Stiles could break him in half like a twig if he wasn’t careful. “Hey. How was your trip?”

“Great. For me, I mean,” he added brightly. He sat in the booth across from Stiles. “Rafael gave up the whole reconnecting pretense around day two, and by day three, I decided to enjoy my vacation without him. I got to visit some cousins I haven’t seen in a while.”

Stiles nodded. “Sorry about him.”

Scott shrugged. “I stopped expecting things from him a long time ago. So, why are _you_ in town? I was expecting to visit you in the city.”

“Ah…” Stiles grimaced. “There was a, hmm, canine problem with the Hales. Mutts hanging around.” He didn’t bother lowering his voice; no one would know he wasn’t talking about stray dogs. 

Scott’s face hardened. “Why did they need you? Couldn’t Peter and Erica handle it?”

“Uh, maybe. But there are others, too. And…maybe we should get our food to go,” he said weakly. 

They took their food to the jeep.

Scott dropped his pancakes into his lap when Stiles told him he’d gotten back together with Derek. “You _what?_” He squirmed around, struggling to face Stiles in the still-broken passenger seat. 

“It was actually-”

“Have you forgotten what he _did_ to you?” Scott demanded. “I still don’t get staying part of the pack anyway, you don’t need them!” 

Stiles held up a finger. “One, yes, I do. I know…” He turned his head. Inhaled. Exhaled. “Being part of the pack anchors me. It keeps me-”

“Human? That’s what you _are_,” Scott snapped. 

“That’s what I _was_,” Stiles corrected. “Being a werewolf, though, it’s like…the same rules don’t always apply. The same instincts certainly don’t apply, and you have to make sure not to cross those lines. Like in the city. If some dude gets in your face, you want to break his arm to teach him not to. Only that’s not how it works. Or—something,” he backpedaled when Scott only gaped at him. “It’s not…I don’t want to hurt or maim people just because. I just have to remember that a broken arm doesn’t mean the same thing anymore. Being in a pack makes it easier to be man and wolf at once.” He rubbed his mouth. “Some of the mutts have been man eaters.”

Scott recoiled. “_What?!_”

Stiles nodded. “Talia thinks that happens when a psychopath or sociopath gets bitten. She’s not sure, though, obviously.”

“Oh my god!”

Stiles looked at him. “Sorry. I meant to skip that part.”

Scott hesitated, then nodded. “O-okay. Let’s…move on.” His brow furrowed. “Why did you get back together with Derek?”

Stiles laughed weakly. “Ah, huh, about that…” He explained. 

Scott’s face scrunched up. “That sounds fake.”

“It isn’t.” Stiles rubbed his eyes. “You don’t understand, but I could see, smell, and hear how shocked they were. And I just.” He pressed the heel of his hand against his chest. “I feel like a dick. I _was_ a dick.” 

Scott scowled. “They could have explained earlier! How were you supposed to know?” 

Stiles laughed. “Thanks. I’m glad it’s cleared up now.” 

“Really? Are you sure you should have gotten back together with Derek?” he asked dubiously. 

He shrugged. “I love him. Even when I hated him, I could still _feel_ it. Now everything feels right again.” 

Scott rolled his eyes. “Fine. I guess.”

“So generous.” 

“They could have explained!”

“They didn’t know that I didn’t know!” But Stiles laughed again. He would never be able to explain to Scott how it felt, having someone totally, even somewhat immaturely, on his side. 

Even John had seemed to side with the Hales, which Stiles hadn’t really been able to deal with. Of course, he’d gotten the story from Talia while Stiles was turning and had known from the start, too, that Derek hadn’t changed him. 

They’d already talked about improving their communication after the big reveal. It wasn’t so much that they weren’t _talking_—it was, truly, that Stiles hadn’t wanted to talk about what had happened, refused to acknowledge it for so long that it became normal to just…talk about anything else. 

Stiles had felt even worse after that conversation. As if John would side with people who’d hurt his son. A breeze fluttered through the open windows, which for some reason set Stiles’s sinuses burning. He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Let’s go to the park or something,” Scott said. “I can’t eat like this. I’m covered in syrup.”

“Park sounds fine. I guess. Complainer.” Stiles snickered and started the jeep. 

“How’d you break the seat?”

“Funny story…”

The park was plenty crowded when they arrived, but they managed to find a picnic table to spread their food out.

“It’s right in the sun, that’s why no one took it.” Scott shielded his eyes. 

“Eat your bacon before I steal it.”

Scott yanked his container closer. “Back off.”

Stiles grinned, flashing his fangs. 

“Show off.”

Stiles felt like they were being watched a couple times while they ate, but made himself shake it off. If it was a mutt, they’d wait until he was alone, same as an alpha; a newly changed mutt probably wouldn’t have the control to wait and would’ve already attacked. 

Scott was throwing his trash away when someone ran up behind them. 

Stiles whipped around. 

Isaac put his hands up. “Down, Cujo. Thought you heard me talking to you.”

“No. What’re you doing?”

“Talia had me patrolling over here and I saw you guys.” He grinned widely. “Give me a ride back?”

“Sure,” Stiles sighed. 

Scott beamed. “Hey, Isaac.”

“Hey. Are you coming over to hang out?”

“Yep. You can take the front seat,” he offered generously.

Isaac smiled, oblivious. “Thanks!”

Stiles had no idea how Scott had anyone fooled. 

Boyd and Isaac had driven the newly changed werewolf to Satomi over the weekend, after he’d finished turning. He’d still been confused and alarmed about the whole thing, but they’d told him what they could. Satomi would handle the rest. 

“Oh, Stiles.” Isaac knocked into him as they got out of the jeep. “Jackson is going back to school on Thursday.” He laughed when Stiles threw his arms up in victory. 

Scott shook his head. 

Stiles’s phone started ringing as they were heading inside. He glanced at the screen and frowned. 

Professor Mercier was calling. 

“Are you coming?” Scott prompted. 

Stiles put the phone back in his pocket. He’d return his call later. “Yeah.” 

They settled in for Mario Kart, which spawned into a house-wide tournament. 

Laura was disqualified for kicking Peter’s controller out of his hands in a moment of desperation, so she was sent to the basement to keep an eye on the alpha.

She was heavily sedated, but they couldn’t be too safe. 

Derek startled when Stiles’s phone began to ring with a third call. “Everything okay?”

Stiles sighed heavily. “Yeah. Here, take over for me.”

Derek kissed his cheek and took his controller. 

Scott howled with outrage when a blue shell allowed Erica to seize first place. 

Stiles climbed over Boyd’s legs and Talia, who was laying on the floor watching the race, then went down the hall to his room. 

The call had ended by the time he got there. He called back. 

Mercier answered on the second ring. Before Stiles could say anything, he snarled, “_Where are you?_”

Stiles jerked his head back. “Excuse me?”

“_You_ answer_ when I call!_” 

“I was busy. What is-?”

“_Stiles, you need to come home. You’re spending too much time with them._”

Stiles wondered briefly who he meant by “them”, but he was too shocked by Mercier’s tone to question him about it. “I said I was busy.” He hung up, tossed his phone on his bed, and left the room. He put the call out of his mind to go hang out with the pack. 

“Hey, look who’s here,” Scott called, as if Stiles couldn’t hear him at a normal speaking level. 

John waved. He’d been squashed into an armchair with Cora, wearing jeans and a rumpled t-shirt. “Got off early today.” 

Stiles grinned. “You’re just in time for round three!” Screw Mercier. “_Too much time with them_” his ass.


	31. Chapter 31

Derek watched with his arms crossed, clenching his jaw. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out _what._

Stiles had been irritable all day, so he and Boyd were sparring in the backyard to blow off some steam. After Peter and Erica, Boyd was the best option to spar with Stiles when he was at the top of his game. Stiles lunged, teeth scraping over Boyd’s throat.

Boyd’s palm struck his chest. 

He flew back several feet and rolled back up, panting. When he lunged again, his shift went further, cheeks splitting open like a muzzle. 

Derek knocked him off course. “Hey! Get ahold of yourself!”

Boyd looked at Derek, brows raised high. 

Stiles turned away and put his head down, breathing hard. He trembled, a fine shiver overtaking him, sweat rolling down the back of his neck and the sides of his face. “Right. Sorry.” He kept facing away for a moment, his shoulders heaving as he inhaled. He shook himself and turned back. 

“Okay?” Derek frowned at him. 

“Yeah.” He nodded at Boyd. 

Boyd studied him for a moment, then rushed him. 

Derek stayed close. 

Stiles was fighting like this was real, and that was worrying him. He was usually good at making sparring a game; he’d been told on multiple occasions to take it a little more seriously. Now it seemed like he couldn’t stay grounded, couldn’t tell it was just practice. 

They all played rough, all bloodied each other on occasion, but this…

Stiles snarled, low and _real_, and launched himself at Boyd. They collided before Derek could get between them, rolling in a tangle of teeth, blood, and claws. 

Derek dove in and grabbed _someone_ by the back of the neck, yanking them apart. 

Stiles howled in rage, squirming in his grip and swiping at Derek’s arm.

Boyd sat up. He had gouges down his chest and across his cheek, leaking blood all over the yard. The gashes were healing, but they were shockingly deep.

“_Stiles!_”

Stiles froze. He blinked. His shift fell away and his eyes faded back to brown, focusing on Boyd. 

Derek set him on his feet. 

He stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I was—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been feeling weird all day.” 

Boyd wiped blood off his face. “Okay.” He stood up and used his ruined shirt to mop up the rest of the blood. The claw marks healed. “I get it,” he added. 

Derek didn’t. Boyd was pack, and they didn’t hurt pack. “Maybe you should take a walk,” he suggested. When Stiles looked at him, miserable and guilty, he softened slightly. “I can go with you.”

“Okay,” he murmured, dropping his gaze.

“You okay?” Derek asked Boyd, hesitating.

“Yeah. I’ll just go get some water.”

Stiles kept his head down when they started walking. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I felt this, this weird _molten rage_ while we were fighting and it was like I couldn’t tell what was happening.” 

Derek frowned. “Do you still feel your other alpha?”

Stiles shuddered as he always did at the mention. “Yeah, sometimes. It’s really easy to ignore now, but it’s still there.”

“We should tell Mom. Maybe it’s-”

“Derek! Get back here!” Talia shouted. 

“I’m starting to think we should stay out of the woods,” Stiles complained. They turned back and ran. 

The scent and…_feel_ of Talia’s panic almost bowled them over; they nearly ripped the door off the hinges going inside. 

Adam and Talia were kneeling in the foyer. 

Scott was on the floor, bleeding and shivering, hunched over his arm. His face was white, eyes huge and dark with shock as he stared up at them almost uncomprehendingly. He shuddered and hiccupped, then gagged, tipping forward enough to reveal that he had a bite on his hand, in exactly the same place Stiles had been bitten. 

Talia looked back at them, her face grim.

Stiles’s rage shot through his scent, hot and filling the room instantly. His eyes turned gold. “Who?” he asked through his fangs. 

Scott shook his head. “I—I nev—ver saw him.” He shuddered, eyes fluttering. “But he had a message.” He swallowed. “He said, ‘_Tell Stiles to come to me._’” 

Stiles growled, low and grating and furious. 

“Don’t,” Adam began. “He’s an alpha, you-”

Stiles twisted around and ran, tearing out the back door. It came off the hinges, falling crookedly against the steps.

Adam glared at Talia. “You should have told him not to go.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “He wouldn’t have listened,” she said evenly. “This way he isn’t fighting his instincts _and_ the alpha.” 

Derek looked up.

Erica ran down the stairs. “We’re going with him,” she announced. 

Talia nodded. 

Adam stared at her. 

Derek went after Stiles with Erica at his side.


	32. Chapter 32

Stiles followed the scent of Scott’s blood out of the yard, off of Hale property. The scent of a strange werewolf was present, too, but it was easier to follow the more familiar smell. He heard Erica and Derek racing after him, but he didn’t slow down. 

“Stiles,” Erica snarled. She leaped and caught up to him. “Stop. Look.” She yanked his arm, forcing him to turn. “The alpha is somewhere in town. Don’t follow Scott’s scent.” 

“He would have retraced his steps to keep from leaving-”

She set her hand on her hip, impatient. “Do you really think he’s that smart? Derek’s already on the second scent trail. Let’s go.” She squeezed his hand, and they ran after Derek together. 

They had to slow down in town, to avoid drawing attention. Stiles clenched his fists. 

“The message made it sound like he knows you,” Erica said as she turned a slow circle, eyes narrowed. “Maybe…” She looked at Stiles’s face and away. “Maybe he’s the one who changed you, too.”

Stiles growled. He couldn’t feel a pull of any kind, just burning rage and a thirst for vengeance. 

Derek nodded. “Makes sense. He told Scott to tell you to come to him. He’s been trying to summon you to him through your bond for a while.”

Stiles turned his head. The breeze carried the scent of Scott’s blood, the strange wolf just under it. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, mixed as it was with car fumes and people scents. He listened, tuning out the human noises around him.

Someone was panting in a closed candle store. 

Stiles turned toward it. “I think he’s in there.”

Erica tilted her head and shrugged. “I can’t hear. Derek?”

He took a step closer, the tips of his ears elongating slightly. He bared his teeth after a second. “_Someone_ is in there.”

Erica nodded. “Let’s go. If it’s not him, we’ll call the sheriff about the break in.” 

Stiles tried not to run; he didn’t want anyone to wonder what they were doing. In a town as small as Beacon Hills, and being the sheriff’s son, running would just prompt passersby to ask where he was going. He walked with purpose, enough that people moved unconsciously out of his way. 

He was going to kill whoever did this to Scott. 

The back entrance of the candle store was busted open; it was impossible to get a scent over the candle fragrances, so Stiles just went in. If it was just a thief, he could handle them on his own. He could hear heavy breathing as he moved through the breakroom. 

Someone laughed from the center of the store, making him jump. 

Erica cursed behind him, and the three of them rushed forward together. 

An alpha stood in the rows of candle displays with blood all over his arms and face. He was enormous, with close cropped hair and a malicious grin.

Stiles bared his teeth, bracing to lunge.

The alpha flashed his eyes. “Hey, Stiles,” he said. “You guys are far from home.” 

Stiles glared at him. “Do I know you?” He didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t feel any sort of pull or connection to the man. When he was in the same building as Talia, he could almost sense her, an awareness and connection to his alpha.

The alpha smirked. “I know you.”

Erica snarled and managed one step forward. 

“Oh, don’t.” He tilted his head, smirk widening. “You guys are going to be plenty busy in a minute. Better not waste your energy.”

Derek cursed. “Sirens,” he muttered. 

Stiles heard them a second later and felt his heart hammer. “Why’d you bite Scott?” he demanded. 

The alpha laughed. “Good thing you’re not a cop like your dad.”

Stiles lunged. 

Erica and Derek caught him and dragged him back.

He fought them, kicking and scratching like an animal. “You stay away from my pack, you ugly WrestleMania reject piece of shit or I swear to god I’ll rip your fucking kidneys out and shove them down your throat!” He yanked his arm free, but by then, Erica and Derek practically had him in the breakroom again.

The alpha just laughed. 

“Let me go,” Stiles snarled. “Let me go, I’m going to kill him.” He thrashed against Derek’s grip.

Erica punched him in the nose. 

His head snapped back.

“Erica!” Derek shouted. 

Stiles shook his head and licked the blood leaking from his nose. “Let’s go,” he muttered. “Those sirens are going to the house. They have to be.” He heard Derek’s heart racing and caught his hand. They all ran out of the store together. 

“What could the sirens be?” Erica asked. “It’s not like they can call an ambulance if Scott…” She grimaced. 

“Fire or police, probably,” Stiles said grimly.

They ran faster. 

The police were pulling up as they arrived, so they circled around back of the house to avoid being seen. 

Talia was out front with Adam; she sounded furious, but not upset. 

Stiles sighed, relieved. 

Derek ran his hand through his hair and pulled his shirt straight so he no longer looked disheveled. 

Stiles did the same and glanced at Erica. 

She tugged at her tangled curls and sighed. “You guys go.” 

Adam and Talia were speaking to John and a deputy while a crime scene unit dealt with a body. 

Stiles caught Derek’s hand, shoulders going stiff. _That bastard._

Someone had dumped a body on their _front yard._

Deputy Blithely asked to speak to John privately after they’d finished getting statements from Talia and Adam. “Sheriff, I know your kid is…involved with the Hales, but you have to admit-”

“That it looks like someone is targeting the Hales? You’re right, Deputy, it really does. We’ll be looking into this.”

Stiles stepped up to Talia. “There’s an alpha in town,” he murmured in an effort to avoid being overheard. “He—he knew me, but I didn’t know him. He claims he didn’t bite Scott. But I think he did this.” 

“Sheriff, I think they’re involved,” Blithely insisted. 

John paused. “Alright. You’re right, this is weird. But if we’re too obvious about the investigation, Talia Hale will be all over us for harassment.”

Blithely nodded seriously. “Right. Sir, I can watch-”

“What I need you to do is look into Adam Hale’s past. He isn’t from around here.”

Blithely’s brows furrowed. “I thought the Hales have always lived here.”

“The Hales have. Adam took Talia’s name. You look into that, son,” John said heartily, clapping Blithely on the shoulder so hard he stumbled. “Get back to me with a detailed report. I want _everything._”

“But-”

“Oh, I’ll have some deputies posted to keep watch. But I need you on that report, Blithely. Better head back to the station to get started.”

“I—yes, sir,” he muttered. 

Stiles watched him go.

“You go sit with Scott,” Talia said. “He’ll need company. We’ll deal with this.”

But Stiles couldn’t go yet. He turned to John as he approached. “Are you really posting deputies here?”

John smiled. “Sure. Buford and Horton, they could use some field work,” he said blandly.

Stiles snorted. 

Deputies Buford and Horton were the newest additions to the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department. They were mainly on paperwork due to being accident prone and easily distracted. 

Talia shook her head. “Why have him look into Adam’s past?” she demanded, her expression tight, a flush riding her cheeks. Her eyes were gleaming but not quite red yet. 

“Because he knows he won’t find anything,” Adam said calmly. 

Talia huffed. “You went to the same college as I did.”

“And before that, there’s nothing. Plenty of people marry their college partners.” 

Talia sighed. 

Stiles shifted his weight. “How’s Scott?” he blurted. He looked over at Derek. 

“Asleep at the moment. Go on.” 

Stiles retreated into the house.

Derek followed him. 

Stiles stopped at the top of the basement stairs and clenched his fists, staring down. The stairs were well lit, never creepy or dusty, but they still gave him a chill.

Derek squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to go down there. He’ll understand, and one of us will be with him at all times.”

Stiles shook his head. “I can’t…” He closed his eyes. “I hate it down there.”

“I know.”

“I can’t leave him alone.”

Derek was quiet a moment. “Like you were?”

Stiles stiffened, then sighed. “That’s how it felt,” he admitted quietly. “No one I knew was there.” 

“I know.”

Stiles stared at the doorway. He imagined the bottom of the stairs, the cement walls, the bars on the cells, and felt cold. He’d never actually been alone, someone had been with him at all times, but…

Turning from human to werewolf was painful and terrifying. Not having anyone around that he knew made it worse, made him feel isolated and abandoned. That, with the feeling of betrayal, made Stiles’s change…rough. 

_Just a basement,_ he told himself. _Scott’s down there._ He took a step down.

The smell made him cringe. Sweat, damp air, metal, vomit, blood. The smell of new wolf, the human sweating out of him like a virus. 

He clutched Derek’s hand like a lifeline.

They went down together.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just felt like adding 2 today. <3


	33. Chapter 33

Laura was mopping when they got down to the cells. She looked up sharply. Her face softened when she saw Stiles. “He’s fine, he just…well, you remember.” 

He did. 

Scott was on a cot in the middle of a cell. The seizures would kick in soon, and his thrashing would likely knock it over, but he would hurt himself less this way.

Stiles looked around. “Where is she?”

Laura pointed.

The alpha was restrained in the cell furthest from the stairs and from Scott. She was drugged again. 

Stiles went into Scott’s cell and shuddered. It was the same cell they’d put Stiles in.

Derek squeezed his hand. 

Laura put the mop and bucket against the wall. “I’m gonna go upstairs. Just yell if you need us.” 

Stiles looked up. “Someone needs to tell Melissa and Allison.”

Laura made a face. “Does Melissa know about us?”

Stiles nodded. As if he’d been able to keep it from her any longer than he’d kept it from Scott. 

“Oh, good. Mom will call her. As for Allison, that sounds like a best friend duty. It can wait.” She bolted up the stairs. 

Stiles sighed and looked at Scott. “I don’t remember sleeping much.” 

“You did. It’s just easier to remember the pain.” Derek rubbed his eyes. “Remember, if he…when he tries to…you’re going to have to hold him down.”

“I know.” He remembered. 

“Okay.”

The peace lasted five minutes, and then Scott’s body jerked, his arms flew back. His shoulders rolled in, bones cracking and snapping, and his mouth and cheeks split open as he howled. 

Stiles pinned him across the chest, pressing him into the cot.

Scott screamed. His legs jerked, bones grinding together, and he lunged forward, knocking Stiles to the floor. 

Derek pinned him down, speaking to him in a low, soothing voice while Stiles watched, dazed, from the floor.

Claws came out. Scott’s hands shifted to paws, his wrist bones collapsing, then regrowing. His hands shifted back after a moment. His body was teaching itself how to shift in stages, getting stronger for the full shift, but knowing that didn’t make it easier to watch. His ribs cracked and he screamed again.

Stiles jumped to his feet, catching Scott’s arms and holding him as still as he could. 

When it stopped, Scott passed out and Stiles got sick on the floor. 

Derek cleaned it up. “I’m sorry,” he said as he finished mopping.

Stiles shook his head, wiping tears from his cheeks. “Why, um.” He sniffed. “Don’t apologize.” He shuddered. 

Derek held a hand out, so Stiles took it and curled into him. Derek murmured to him and rubbed his back, waiting. 

“It’s just so…” He shuddered and pressed his face into the side of Derek’s neck. 

Stiles only left the basement to eat and brush his teeth for the rest of the night. He was dozing around five in the morning when Scott woke with a shuddering gasp. Stiles stood on trembling legs, watching warily.

Scott whimpered as his back arched with a sharp _crack_; grinding noises filled the room and then he screamed until his throat gave out.

Stiles leaped forward, holding Scott’s shoulders so he wouldn’t flail off the bed. 

Derek woke and lunged, dropping the book and notebook he’d had in his lap. He caught Scott’s legs, pinning them to the cot with his forearm.

“It’s okay,” Stiles gasped. “You’ll be okay. It’ll end soon.” He pressed his cheek against Scott’s, despite the sticky sweat. 

Scott’s fangs dropped, cutting open Stiles’s face, smearing blood between them. 

“Move back,” Derek snapped. 

Stiles shook his head and held on, squeezing his eyes shut. 

The convulsions stopped suddenly, and the only sound in the basement were Scott's quiet sobs. 

Derek squeezed Scott’s ankle. “Be right back.” 

Stiles straightened up and rubbed Scott’s shoulders, which were thick and awkward, halfway through a shift his body wasn’t ready for.

After Stiles had finished turning, while Peter was teaching him all the things Talia couldn’t, Stiles had asked if it was like this for born werewolves. 

“_No,_” he’d said with some surprise. “_No, of course not. We’re born like this. We’re meant to change like this._” 

And Stiles hadn't known what to say to that. He supposed it was like asking a bird why it could fly and he couldn’t, as a human. It just came to them, like breathing, and asking for an explanation for something that was part of them only led to frustration and vague answers. 

“Stiles,” Scott groaned. 

“Yeah, buddy.” He squeezed Scott’s shoulders. He could feel them shifting back, the bones all rearranging themselves slowly back to human shapes under his skin. 

“Kill me.” Tears leaked from his eyes.

Stiles dug claws in. “Nope. You’re gonna be fine. It’s going to suck like that lacrosse practice in junior year but you’re gonna make it. Remember that year? Finstock had us doing suicides in hundred and one degree temps.”

Scott laughed weakly. “This is worse.” 

“I don’t know, man, you puked then, too.” He brushed Scott’s sweaty hair back. “If my skinny ass could make it through this, so can you.” 

Scott’s eyes flashed gold, then fluttered shut. 

Derek returned cautiously, setting a bottle of water on the floor by his things. It looked like he’d been working on a translation. 

Stiles moved away from the bed and rubbed his gritty eyes. “How’d—how do you guys just watch this?”

“We have to.” He shook his head. “I thought my guts were being shredded when it was you.” 

Stiles frowned at him. “You were there?”

Derek smiled crookedly at him. “Of course I was.” 

“I don’t remember that.”

He winced. “You were screaming accusations at the time,” he said delicately. “You were more vocal than any changed ’wolves we’ve ever seen.”

Stiles dropped his gaze. 

Derek pulled him close, tangling their fingers together. “I love you.”

Stiles looked at him and pressed their foreheads together. “I love you, too.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “Scott asked me to kill him.”

“Most do.” Derek moved to press his lips to Stiles’s forehead. 

“Did I?”

Derek chuckled. “Uh, no. You were too busy making promises to kill me.”

Stiles whined, an almost canine noise that he couldn't help.

Derek squeezed his hands. “He’s gonna be fine.” 

Stiles nodded. Scott would make it; he was already part way through turning. Stiles was just afraid, because when Scott woke up, he would most likely realize what Stiles had known all along. This had happened to him because of Stiles.


	34. Chapter 34

Scott shifted fully for the first time six days after his initial bite. Talia and Stiles had been spending the most time in the basement with him, though Derek had stuck around, too. Talia had insisted, in order to bond with Scott so he knew who his alpha was. 

It was past midnight, Stiles was passed out slumped against Boyd, and Derek was in a corner translating divorce papers from Spanish to English, when Scott tumbled off his cot, took a step, and flopped onto his belly. He whined and looked at Derek pitifully. His coat was deep brown, nearly black, while his eyes glowed gold.

Derek set his stuff aside and crawled over to him, letting his eyes light up, too. Some new wolves found it soothing. “Try to sleep,” he instructed, touching the back of his hand to Scott’s shoulder. “The painful part is over now, promise.”

Scott whined uncertainly. He was too exhausted from his change to move, legs twitching feebly under him.

Derek took pity and lifted him, setting him across Stiles’s legs and going back to his spot. He smiled a little when he felt Scott’s back legs kick out, bracing his feet against Derek’s thigh.

When Stiles woke up four hours later, he was overjoyed. 

Derek hadn’t been lying; the painful part really was over. Once the new wolf shifted completely, they were no longer in transition. After that, it was just about control. 

They took Scott to the backyard once he was strong enough to walk. He howled playfully and tore around on four legs, tongue hanging out, as he got used to his new shape. 

Erica and Isaac came outside to watch. “He’s like a retriever,” Erica commented. 

Isaac laughed. 

“Be nice,” Derek said. “We have to teach him.”

Stiles tackled Scott. They rolled around like puppies until Stiles broke away. “Come on, buddy, we have to show you how to shift.”

Scott whined, tucking his tail. 

Stiles scrubbed a hand over his ears. “It won’t hurt like it did before, I promise.” 

Scott huffed, like he didn’t believe him. 

Stiles grinned. “It’s not too hard. Just think about being back in your skin.” 

Scott’s ears flattened. 

Boyd, Erica, and Isaac moved off the porch to help. 

Derek stayed back. They’d all gone through this before, he hadn’t. They should be the ones to help him. 

Stiles made eye contact with him and smiled briefly. The skin around his eyes and mouth was tense, his complexion pale and almost gray. He swallowed and looked back at Scott, who was sitting at his feet. 

“I’ll be back. You guys just…keep practicing.” 

Scott grumbled and leaned up against Stiles’s leg. 

Derek went inside. 

The rest of the house was waking up, too. Laura was in the kitchen with Cora, walking her through the recipe for French toast.

Talia was in the living room on an armchair. Her legs were tucked up under her, an open address book in her lap. Her phone was pressed to her ear. She grimaced at Derek. “No, Mom,” she said with a sigh, “I don’t need you to come out here.” She rolled her eyes, rubbing her temple. “We’re handling it. You and Dad enjoy Aruba. Yes, Peter’s fine. Peter’s always fine.” 

Derek waved and fled. His grandparents had left Beacon Hills about five years ago to travel. They stopped in for visits from time to time, but with Talia holding down the territory, they were comfortable exploring the world. 

It was strange to Derek to be away that long. He liked to travel, too, but he got homesick within a week.

Talia had been calling people since Scott was bitten, trying to find anyone who might be targeting her pack for any reason. The issue was, they’d never met the alpha in the basement, or, as far as anyone else could tell, the alpha they’d tracked to the candle store. They needed to find out who they were working with. 

Everyone except Jackson was trying to figure out who that was. He'd gone back to school earlier in the week, accompanied by two of Satomi's grandchildren to make sure he didn't get jumped. Derek knew Peter wasn’t happy about it, but he allowed it to keep Jackson from sneaking back alone.

Adam was in the attic. When Derek found him, he was covered in dust and surrounded by boxes. “Your uncle asked me to look at some of our albums from college.” He rubbed dust off his cheek. “Something about Talia’s car, I don’t know.” 

“He told Stiles the alpha knew what car she had in college.” Derek crossed to him, carefully stepping around boxes of old clothes and toys. 

Adam looked around. “We have got to get rid of some of this. Maybe later you and I can look up a charity or shelter, somewhere that won’t charge people for it.” He rubbed his face. He had an album open in his lap, tapping his thumb against the outer edge.

“What is that?”

Adam glanced down. “Just some pictures from college.” He titled it to show Derek. “It was before I met Talia.” 

Derek moved to sit near him and looked over the picture. 

Talia was immediately recognizable, even as young as she was. She was lounging in a chair with a book in her lap, surrounded by a group of people that Derek didn't recognize. Some were reading, others eating or just talking. There was a lot of big hair.

“Who are they?”

Adam shrugged. “Just some other ’wolves away from their packs that were feeling homesick.”

The picture on the page beside it had Adam in it, but significantly fewer of the others. 

Derek estimated at least half were gone.

Talia and Adam were sharing a chair, reading different books but comfortably in each other’s space. “Where’s everyone else?”

Adam laughed dryly. “Some of the others protested the inclusion of a _mutt,_” he said, twisting the word. 

Derek felt shame creep up his neck. “Dad…”

“Not all of us go feral or live wild. Some of us live perfectly normal lives.” 

“I know.” Derek leaned closer to him and let out a breath when Adam rested their shoulders together. “I know all…”

“Mutts,” Adam supplied darkly. 

“All pack-less wolves,” Derek said, loud, “make choices. You chose to live like a human. I didn’t know Mom’s friends were…like that.”

He shook his head. “She only hung out with them because they were also werewolves, she wouldn’t have called them friends.” He smiled faintly. “As soon as any of them had a problem with me, she had a problem with them. Loyal to a fault,” he murmured. 

Derek snorted. 

Adam cleared his throat. “Will you tell me what the alpha looked like again? Maybe he’s in here and we just didn’t realize.” 

Derek described the alpha from the candle store again. “Stiles called him a WrestleMania reject,” he added. 

Adam laughed. “Of course he did.” He shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t see anyone like that in here.” 

Talia made a loud, furious noise downstairs. 

Derek and Adam listened together as she made her way up to the second floor, then to the attic staircase. 

She was glowering as she emerged. “Someone throw my phone in the garbage disposal,” she growled. 

Adam grinned. “So, it’s going well?”

“No.” She climbed over boxes and collapsed in his lap, knocking the breath out of him. “Remember Jerry?”

“Uh…”

She set her head on his shoulder. “Jerry from _Econ._”

“Oh.”

“I spent twenty minutes just trying to tell him why I was calling.” She shook her head. “He told me about all five of his grandchildren. We haven’t spoken in nearly two decades and he’s telling me everything!”

Derek tipped his head. 

Downstairs, Stiles asked Laura where Talia was, his voice terse. 

They all paused to listen as he raced to the second floor, then the attic. He looked at the three of them with a somewhat blank expression.

Talia sat up. “What’s wrong?”

He thumped the heel of his hand against his chest. “I can feel him calling for me,” he growled. His fangs were out, eyes gleaming faintly gold as he fought the call hard enough to lose control of his shift. “It’s fainter than usual, but it’s still _there_. How long until it’s completely gone?” He paced, frustration wafting off him.

Adam frowned. “With no contact between you two for this long, you shouldn’t feel any pull by now.” He and Talia shared a worried look.

Stiles jerked a little. “Oh,” he mumbled. “My phone is ringing.” He scrambled out of the attic. 

Derek glanced at his parents, then went after him. 

Talia and Adam followed. 

Derek found Stiles standing right outside his own room, holding his phone to his ear. 

His face was utterly blank, eyes glazed. He rubbed the back of his neck and hung up.

“Who was that?” Talia demanded from over Derek’s shoulder. 

Stiles jumped and blinked hazily at her. “Oh. I usually meet with an old professor of mine for work. He was just…checking in, I guess.” 

“Who?” Derek asked. 

Stiles blinked again. “Um, Professor Mercier.” 

Derek shook his head. “I don’t remember him.” 

Stiles shrugged. His expression was still eerily empty, eyes glazed over like he was mentally half a step back from the conversation. “You didn’t exactly go to classes with me.”

“Why don’t you go help Scott?” Talia suggested slowly. “You need to spend time with the pack.” Her brow was furrowed with worry. 

Stiles nodded jerkily, like a puppet having its strings pulled. 

Derek stuck close to him for the rest of the day. When he insisted on sleeping in the basement with Scott, who couldn’t quite control when he shifted yet, Derek stayed down there with them. He curled tight around Stiles, hoping he’d feel if he started sleepwalking, and wished this alpha would leave them alone.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting 3 chapters because I just want to be finished posting this ahh. I've been trying to continue editing it but at this point there's nothing left that I can do. All I can say is I've written a lot this year with no breaks and I tried to clean it up as much as I could.

Stiles woke with a jolt. He blinked and looked around, found Derek pinning him to his chest in sleep. He frowned and sat up, heart pounding.

Scott was gone.

Stiles broke Derek’s grip on him and bolted. The only way out of the basement was the main stairwell. 

The back door hung open. 

Stiles ran, following Scott’s scent and uneven trail. 

Scott was nearly to the road when Stiles caught up. His eyes were wide and glazed, glowing gold in the dark. 

Stiles grabbed his arm. 

Scott swung around, raking his claws across Stiles’s shoulder and leaving stinging gouges. 

Stiles dropped his arm, stunned, and looked down at the blood rushing down his arm before it healed. “Scott,” he growled, “you need to fight the pull. Just—just remember that _Talia_ is your alpha.” 

Scott shook his head. “Can’t. I have to go.” He turned his face to the road, breathing heavily. His muscles twitched and bunched like it was taking all of his concentration just to hold still.

“No, you don’t.” Stiles stepped in front of him, holding his hands out. “Just come back with me. Once you’re back with Talia, you-”

Scott lunged. His teeth flashed in the moonlight. 

Stiles didn’t move—couldn’t fathom a reality where Scott would hurt him fast enough to react—and got bit, hard, through the shoulder. 

Fang scraped bone.

Stiles roared. He shoved Scott off of him and hunched in a defensive crouch, fangs bared. “What the fuck! Scott!” 

Scott ran on all fours. 

Blood poured down Stiles’s shoulder again, soaking past his shirt to his pants. He cursed under his breath and ran back to the house. He considered calling Talia—his phone was in his pocket, he tried to keep it there as much as possible in case of sleepwalking—but figured he’d make it home faster than she would answer.

She met him on the porch. “What happened?” Her eyes glowed red. 

“Scott. The alpha…”

She nodded. “I’m going to try calling him back.” She glanced at him warily. “I’ve rarely had to do this. Even you…even you chose to come to me on your own.”

Stiles nodded. That was why he’d felt torn at all. If he hadn’t wanted to be part of the Hale pack, he would have just gone to the mystery alpha without a fight. 

Talia closed her eyes and braced her hands on the railing. 

Stiles’s phone began to ring. He yanked it out and answered without looking at the screen. “Scott, where-”

“_This is not,_” Mercier growled, “_Scott. Enough is enough, Stiles._” 

He shuddered. “What-”

“_Come here now._”

Stiles felt a tug deep in his chest. His hand jumped to the back of his neck.

Talia’s head lifted slowly. A look of horror crossed her face as her gaze darted to the hand Stiles was still holding protectively to his neck. She gasped. “Hang up,” she commanded, and it was so much stronger than Mercier’s summons.

Stiles hung up on his shouting.

Talia vaulted off the porch. “I think I know why you can’t shake your other alpha.” She touched light fingertips to the back of his neck.

Stiles flinched. 

“Stiles, I—I’m sorry. I believe someone is tampering with your memories.” Her voice went muffled near the end, tinny.

Stiles’s eyes fluttered. 

Talia’s brows furrowed. “I also think he may have done…something to keep you from figuring that out.”

“What?” He blinked dazedly at her. 

She took his arm. “Let’s go inside. We’ll get Derek.”

“Why?” He looked over his shoulder as she tugged him gently up the porch steps and into the house. 

“I think you’ve had some contact with the alpha who changed you,” Talia said carefully. She led him to the kitchen table and pushed gently until he sat in one of the chairs. “Stay here. Okay?”

He nodded. He knew he was supposed to be doing something, but his mind had gone blank.

Talia returned in no time. 

Stiles blinked up at her, then at Derek.

“He’s been conditioned.”

Derek shook his head. “What?” He looked groggy. 

Talia looked shockingly distraught. “He’s got trigger phrases that make him forget what’s being said to him. Someone’s been tampering with his memory.” 

Stiles’s vision went fuzzy.

Talia snapped her fingers in front of his nose, making him jump. 

“What?”

Derek frowned and looked up at Talia. “What do we do?”

She flexed her hand. “The memories are still there. They’re just locked away.”

Stiles leaned back. “What’re you doing? What are you talking about?”

“You know who changed you,” Talia said briskly. “You just can’t remember. It’s going to be painful, but you’ll know.”

Stiles felt strange, like he was two steps away from the conversation. He gripped the arms of his chair. He knew what she was saying, sort of, only because he was concentrating so hard. He’d been missing parts of this conversation, somehow. She was trying to fix that. “I—okay. Do it.”

“Hold him,” Talia ordered. 

Derek knelt in front of him and pinned his arms down. He nuzzled their noses together. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Stiles flinched when Talia touched his neck. A dizzy sense of déjà vu overcame him. He whined softly. 

Derek pressed their foreheads together. 

Talia’s claws pierced his neck.

“No, no, stop—don’t!” he gasped.

She kept pressing while Derek held him still.

Stiles sobbed, jerking against Derek’s hold.

Talia stopped pushing and flexed her fingers.

Stiles froze.

Memory flooded back.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ta-da, the reveal chapter! I'm just gonna go to work now and not have internet access for about eight hours. Like I said in the previous chapter, I tried to clean it up. I'll post two more tomorrow, and two more after that, etc until the end that way we can just skid right into the end! <3

Stiles met Professor Deucalion Mercier during a US history course he wasn’t sure he even wanted to take, three years ago. He and Stiles had gotten into a debate about Columbus or something, and then he’d asked to see Stiles after class, which wasn’t unusual for Stiles, who expected to get in trouble. They’d become friends, sort of. Mercier had become like a mentor to Stiles, made himself out to be like a surrogate parent. 

He’d revealed himself when Stiles said he was going to meet his boyfriend’s family. 

“Oh, that sounds fun. Who, if I may ask…?” He’d trailed off, like he didn’t want to intrude.

Stiles had, at that point, always been happy to babble about Derek. “Derek Hale,” he’d said brightly. He’d missed or forgotten the fury twisting Mercier’s face. “He’s studying linguistics. For fun. He’s a huge nerd, I love him.” 

Mercier asked Stiles to join his pack for the first time that day. 

When Stiles laughed, he’d shown him proof. When he’d freaked out, he’d dragged him to the desk, slammed him down, and dug his claws into his neck. As he’d drawn the memories out like venom, he’d whispered, “You’ll join us soon.” 

After Stiles had returned, a werewolf, betrayed and furious, Mercier had tried to convince Stiles to kill the Hales and join his pack. 

Stiles told him he was insane. 

Deucalion took his memories, too many times to count. 

He _hated_ Talia, hated the mention of her, the scent; he'd had to take Stiles's memories several times for losing his temper when he smelled her on him, or when he mentioned her. He'd never told Stiles what she'd done to piss him off like that, but Stiles was usually too busy freaking out to ask, considering at those times he was finding out that Deucalion was a werewolf. Again.

Stiles had overheard him snarling about Talia the day he’d returned from Beacon Hills, from dealing with the three mutts. That was the day he’d forgotten to meet Laura for coffee; when he’d taken Stiles’s memories, he’d gone too far back, hadn’t been as careful as he should have been. Stiles had heard Deucalion talking to someone about packs and territory and, worried, had gone to make sure he wasn’t talking about werewolves that as far as Stiles had known, he wasn’t supposed to know existed. The huge alpha from the candle store was there, as well as the woman. 

“She won’t be too much of a problem if we do this the right way,” he said. “We’ll turn the town against them and kill them after. The humans will think they left.”

Stiles had frozen out in the hall. 

The woman drawled, “What about your little pet? He’s Hale’s beta.”

Deucalion snarled. “He’s _my_ beta.” He inhaled. “After I kill Hale, we’ll find an alpha for him to kill. Then he’ll be part of our pack.” 

She snorted. “And if he won’t?”

“Again,” the man laughed. 

“He will. He already loathes them.” Deucalion paused. 

Stiles backed up a step. 

The study door flew open. 

Stiles spun ran back for the library, his heart racing with terror. 

Deucalion had him pinned to the desk in seconds. “Don’t worry,” he growled. “Once the Hales are dead, this won’t be necessary anymore.” He jammed his claws into Stiles’s neck and the world faded out.


	37. Chapter 37

Stiles stayed in his chair, even after Derek let him go. He’d gotten sick as the memories flooded back, just missing getting puke all over Derek by twisting to the left. He’d started babbling, the words running over each other as he went on about his history professor without really making much sense. 

“Stiles, what’s his name?” Talia asked. She was behind his chair, wiping blood from his neck with a dishtowel. 

Stiles swallowed. He was icy cold and pale, eyes dilated and glazed. “He’s an alpha—a werewolf—he-”

“His _name._”

His gaze moved up to her face. “Deucalion Mercier.”

Talia flinched. “Deucalion…his last name isn’t Mercier. Or it wasn’t…” She grimaced. “Derek, take him to lay down.”

Stiles caught her wrist. “Who is he?”

She twisted to grip his hand. “I knew him as Deucalion Emery. We…our packs had a history, and we went to college together.” She shook her head. “We got into a fight about…” Her gaze flicked toward the hall where her and Adam’s bedroom was. “About Adam,” she sighed. She rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t spoken to him since then.”

“And it was bad enough for this?” Derek asked doubtfully. 

She lifted her hands. “The fight? No. He just told me that dating a mutt was an embarrassment to pureblood werewolves, that he didn’t belong among the civilized. I told him he could get fucked, that we weren’t any better than them, that we’re all the same, and he became infuriated. We fought,” she added thoughtfully, “and he lost.”

Stiles slumped forward. “What about your pack history?” he rasped. 

She met his gaze, then looked away. “In the fifties, his alpha challenged my mother for our territory, only a couple years after I’d been born. The Emory pack lost. They used to own the territory between us and the Ito pack, but when they lost to us, they were…” She tilted her head. “They were forced to flee the area, retreat to a smaller, unclaimed territory further east, which is how territory disputes work. If you challenge another pack and lose, there are consequences, even if you survive.” She rubbed her temples. 

“But if you didn’t know of him, how’d you guys end up fighting?” Derek asked, his hand flexing on Stiles’s leg.

Her jaw clenched. “He approached me in our first semester, introduced himself and a group of other werewolves who were kind of homesick. He got jealous, I guess, when I made fast friends with everyone, but it wasn’t like it was important. They’d all heard of the Hale pack, and I was a Hale. I barely knew them outside of study groups, and most of them—including Deucalion—abandoned me when I brought Adam into my life. He’s also the only one who fought me about it rather than just moving on,” she added with a shrug. 

Stiles shuddered, his chin dipping toward his chest.

Talia stood up straight. “Go, take him. I have to get everyone up and looking for Scott. And warn them about Deucalion,” she said with a troubled look on her face. 

Derek scooped Stiles up, ignoring his weak protests, and carried him to Derek’s bedroom. 

“I can walk,” he muttered. “Need to brush my teeth.”

Derek detoured to the second floor bathroom and set him on his feet. 

Stiles stared at him. “Okay. My toothbrush is downstairs.”

Derek grabbed one of the sealed ones they kept in the drawer. 

Stiles laughed quietly. “Okay.” After he’d brushed his teeth, he let Derek shuffle him into his bedroom, then his bed. “He tried to recruit me,” he mumbled. 

Derek paused. “What?”

“After…no, before. Before you told me what you were, before we left. Deucalion tried to invite me to his pack.” He yawned. “I told him I was coming to meet your family, and he asked your name. He got mad when I told him, and told me about werewolves before I ever met your family.” 

“Jesus,” Derek muttered. 

“He took away my memories every time I refused to join his pack,” Stiles continued as his eyes were bobbing shut. 

Derek tucked the blanket around him. 

Stiles grabbed his hand, eyes flying open. “You need to tell your mom.” 

“Tell her what?”

He swallowed. “The alpha downstairs, the one we saw in town, they’re Deucalion’s pack.” 

Derek shook his head. “You’re tired. They’re all alphas, they can’t be-”

Stiles squeezed his hand. “No, they are. He was talking to them at his house, he said,” he struggled into sitting position, swaying, “he said that…after he killed you guys, he was going to make me kill an alpha so I could be part of their pack.”

“Okay.” Derek nudged him back, brushing his hair out of his face. 

“You have to tell her.”

“I will. Get some rest, I’ll be right back.” Derek waited until his eyes had closed to get up.

Well, if Deucalion had been planning to recruit Stiles, Derek could see why he’d lost it when he realized Stiles was dating Talia Hale’s son. If he hated Talia enough to do all of this, that must have been the worst kind of insult to him. 

“Mom.” Derek caught her on her way to the basement. “Stiles told me about that woman.” 

Talia’s brows lifted. 

Derek explained the pack of alphas thing Stiles had told him. 

Talia glared down the stairs. “Send Peter down here and stay with Stiles. If he tells you anything else, just text me.”

Derek nodded. 

Talia tipped her head. “Send Erica, too. Tell them to grab my toolbox.”

Derek left. He sent Erica and Peter with Talia’s toolbox, then went upstairs. He was sure Peter had already done worse than a pair of pliers, but he didn’t want to hear it. 

Stiles clung to him as soon as he got in the bed. 

Derek curled around him and hoped they could stay safely cocooned here for a little while.


	38. Chapter 38

Stiles ripped the blindfold off his head and glared at Isaac and Cora, who were sitting on the coffee table watching him. “That didn’t work.”

“I didn’t say it would _for sure,_” Cora said. “I just thought since you and Scott have—err, were bitten by the same alpha, maybe you could feel him. Somewhere.” 

Isaac snorted. “You just wanted to blindfold him.”

Cora shoved him off the coffee table. 

Stiles looked at the thing he’d pulled off his face. He flung it at her with a yelp. “Is that your _sock?_”

“No!” She flicked it off her leg. “It’s Jackson’s, I think.” 

“Ew! You dick.”

She shrugged. “It’s clean. I found it in the dryer.”

Derek was upstairs doing some translations, so Stiles had recruited Thing 1 and Thing 2 to help distract him from the unending reel of memories bombarding him. They weren’t as much help as he’d naively hoped they’d be. 

He also needed help ignoring the increasingly dire emails and texts he’d been getting from his boss. There was too much going on for him to focus on discount travel, honestly. He was going to lose his job. 

Erica came in and leaned over the back of the couch, next to Stiles. 

“Can I help you?” Stiles demanded. 

“Yeah. I was in my room and thought I saw something in the preserve.” 

Stiles let his head thump back. “Like what?”

She pinched his ear. “Like wolves.” 

“Erica!” Cora snapped. “Why didn’t you-”

“They aren’t enemies. They’re here to talk to Peter.” She squeezed Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles got up, then glanced at Cora and Isaac. “Just stay here.”

Isaac tipped his head back. “Who are they?”

“Part of the mutt clan, probably.”

Erica went toward the front door rather than the kitchen, which was worrisome. They’d all been sticking to the backyard for werewolf business, due to the two very incompetent deputies John had assigned to surveil the Hales. 

Peter came up from the basement. “Talia, could you keep an eye on her? She’s tried to escape twice.” 

Talia snorted from somewhere deeper within the house. “Yeah, now that we know who she is. Go on, I’ll watch her.”

Peter nodded at Erica and Stiles to go ahead. 

They walked outside together. Erica led them to the side of the house, where the trees had never been cleared and pressed up against the house. 

A red wolf and a gray wolf came out of the shadows. The gray one shifted into the old man from the mutt clan. He had blood pouring from a wound on his head, smeared down his throat, and wounds that were slow to heal, thick slashes running along his legs and arms, one deep gouge under his ribs,

Peter stepped forward. “What happened?”

“That alpha came back and killed more than half of us.” He glanced down at the red wolf. 

She stared straight ahead, wrinkling her muzzle. 

“We want to help. If you’re going to fight him, we want to help.” 

“And why would we need your help?” Peter asked. 

His gaze snapped up. “He has probably twenty betas, maybe more. They’re planning to come here.” 

That made sense, in a twisted way. If Deucalion hated Talia enough to change random humans indiscriminately, risking exposure to their entire kind, of course he would be ready to launch an attack, of course he would want to come to her home, to her territory, and risk being overwhelmed. Twenty betas, though? No wonder there’d been so many man eaters mixed in. Who knew where or how he’d been choosing people to bite. 

Stiles’s heart hammered. Had Scott gone to slaughter the mutts with Deucalion? Was he going to fight them? _No,_ Stiles thought. _If I can fight it, so can he._ He hoped.

“I see.” Peter turned his head. “Talia.”

“What?” Her voice was muffled, just barely audible to them from the basement. 

“Kill her.” 

A brief pause. A scuffle. Then, a thick snap. 

Peter looked at the mutts. “How many of you are left?”

“Counting myself and her? Eight.” 

“Fine. We’ll need to figure out where he is.” Peter glanced at Stiles. 

He held up his hands. “I tried earlier, remember?”

Erica flicked his forehead. “No, you tried to find _Scott_ earlier.”

“She’s right. The pull Deucalion has over you won’t have completely faded yet. You should use it.” 

“Ugh.” Stiles yanked his shirt off. “Fine. I’ll need a way to use my phone.” 

Erica held up a finger and ran into the house. 

Peter looked at him. “Don’t confront him. I don’t care how mad you are. He’s an alpha, he’s been manipulating you for over a year, and he’s probably planning to use Scott as leverage. Just get close, find out where he is, and come home.”

Stiles scowled. “If I have a shot-”

“This isn’t a TV show, you aren’t a sniper. Erica should go with you,” he muttered. 

“I don’t need-”

“I’ll go,” Isaac said from inside the house. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. No damn privacy anywhere. 

“You need Erica here,” Isaac went on. 

Erica vaulted out of her bedroom window. She landed next to Stiles and shook her hair back, then held out a small purse.

Stiles stared at it.

She sighed. “Put your phone in,” she ordered. 

“Isaac’s going with you,” Peter decided. “Don’t argue or you aren’t going.”

Stiles held his gaze for as long as he could, eyes narrowed.

Erica shoved her hand in his pocket, making him yelp and jump. She fished his phone out and put it in the purse, then zipped it. “I’ll put it on you when you shift, then you’ll have your phone with you.” 

He glowered at her. 

She rolled her eyes. “What, Stilinski, is your fragile masculinity intimidated by a tiny purple purse?”

He scoffed. “No. But the strap is too long. It’s going to fall off.”

She rolled her eyes again. “It’s adjustable, dumbass.”

The mutt cleared his throat. “What should we do?”

“Move the rest closer to the house. I will let my alpha know you’re here to help. We’ll need to wait until we know where he is to make a move.”

He nodded, but his expression was tight with concern. “The alpha…he wants this territory. He plans to kill you all, not just run you off the land.”

Peter nodded slowly. “We got the idea.” He looked over at Stiles. 

He kicked the rest of his clothes off and shifted. He held still for Erica to fit the purse around him, chin lifted so she could reach.

She tightened the strap until the bag pressed tight to his chest, mostly hidden by his fur. She stepped back, looking wary. 

Stiles closed his eyes. 

The pull toward Deucalion felt harsh, like it was trying to drag him, while Talia’s was gentler, more comfortable. He shuddered and leaned into Deucalion’s pull. He could almost feel Deucalion respond to his acceptance. The pull grew. 

Isaac bumped his nose to Stiles’s shoulder. 

Stiles looked up at Peter, then turned and let his feet carry him. He didn’t make a conscious decision about their direction and kept his mind blank, as blank as he could, to let the pull drag him along. 

Isaac kept pace with his flank.

They basically circled the town, coming through the woods until they were forced to creep out between buildings. Stiles, at least, had experience with this. He stuck close to the shadows and alleys, tried to make himself as small as possible. If anyone looked his way, he played happy-go-lucky stray. 

Isaac followed his lead. 

As far as Stiles could tell, they were in a part of Beacon Hills that wasn’t in much use; broken down buildings, unused railroad tracks, empty businesses. 

Stiles stopped.

Isaac walked into him, licking his ear apologetically but staying close. 

Stiles crept closer, muzzle wrinkling. He could smell wolves…a lot of wolves. He tipped his ears forward. 

They were inside a tipped over trail of railcars. 

“Wouldn’t this just be easier if you’d just fucked the kid?” a familiar voice sighed. 

“_This_ has nothing to do with him. And that isn’t what I want Stilinski for. Not all of us think with our dicks, Ennis.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

Stiles felt his fur bristling. He licked his fangs. 

“He’ll come. I have Scott.”

“What do you want him for, anyway?”

“He’s smart, loyal, resourceful. And a vicious wolf, Peter Hale took care of that for me. He’d be a valuable addition.” 

“If you want an attack dog, a shelter is cheaper.”

Deucalion growled. “You’re right, but Stilinski also looks non-threatening. And Talia _took him,_” he snarled. “She took my beta and her bitch mother took _our territory._”

Stiles backed up into an alley. He shifted and looked at Isaac. “Mutt was right,” he said shakily. “There’s got to be about twenty newly made betas in there.” He tipped his head when Isaac flinched. 

“Get up!” Ennis shouted. “Let’s go hunting. Who’s hungry?”

Stiles shifted back while he and Isaac scrambled into the woods, darting over large roots and through thorny bushes; Isaac’s leg caught in some brush and he whined, pulling uselessly until Stiles went back to help him. He bit down carefully on the thin part of his back leg and pulled until he was free. 

Isaac licked his ear gratefully and bound forward. They ran for a thick cluster of bushes and trees and scrambled their way into the middle, their fur catching and ripping painfully. 

Stiles tumbled back into his skin and hooked an arm around Isaac’s neck, shushing him while he called Allison. 

“_Yeah?_” 

“Remember all those deaths, the newly made betas?” Stiles blurted. 

She paused. “_Yes…what’s going on?_”

“There’s a lot going on, right now. I…”

Isaac bumped him and flicked his gaze toward the railcar. 

Stiles winced. As quickly as he could, he explained about the alpha pack, Scott, even the mutt clan, the words nearly running over each other in his rush. “I have to tell Talia,” he said at the end, “but we’re going to need your help.”

Allison sucked in a shuddering breath. “_I—I…what?_”

Stiles felt bad for springing the Scott thing on her. 

“_What can I do?_” 

“Who’s in town?”

“_It’s only us. Rhea, Nora, and Uncle Jack all left town._”

“That’s fine. Just have Victoria get in contact with Talia. I have to go tell her…”

“_Wait. Scott’s with…with him?_” she asked quietly. 

Stiles hesitated. “He couldn’t help it. The alpha call…it’s strong.” 

“_We’ll be ready. Mom will get in touch with Talia once we’re ready._”

“Thank you.” He hung up and tucked the phone away. “Let’s go before they find us,” he muttered. 

Peter, Adam, and Talia were waiting outside when they returned. Derek could be heard pacing inside. 

“Well?” Talia prompted. 

“About twenty new betas, maybe more, two alphas, and Scott.” Stiles swallowed. “They’re in some abandoned railcars on the edge of town.”

Isaac shifted back and ran to get their clothes from the yard. 

“I called Allison,” Stiles told them. 

Talia’s gaze snapped to him. 

“I asked her for help.”

Adam set a hand on Talia’s arm. “I don’t think just the hunters, just the mutts, or just us could handle them.”

“He’s right,” Peter said. He tipped his head back. “We should be ready to confront them on the full moon, don’t you think? Let’s not give them time to make more betas,” he added. 

Talia huffed, then nodded reluctantly. “Go inside then. We’ll have to prepare.” 

Stiles was ready to confront the man who’d been stealing his memory for the last year and a half _now_, but he couldn’t do it without the pack.


	39. Chapter 39

Derek couldn’t quite believe they were doing this. The whole pack, plus eight mutts and the three Argents, had gathered in the woods behind the railcars that Deucalion and his betas were hiding out in. Derek could hear them, snarling and loud, like they were rabid. 

Stiles shifted his feet. 

Talia glanced at Peter, who shook his head. “You don’t have to like it,” she said. “Just back me up. Even if there aren’t humans close enough to witness, we can’t just fight them out in the open.” 

“You’re the alpha,” Peter muttered. 

“Yes,” Talia replied, “I am.” She gestured at the pack to stay and began the short walk to the railcars. 

Peter followed. 

Adam clenched his fists. 

Isaac and Boyd began to growl, and between them, Erica was already partially shifted, eyes glowing like beacons in the shadows of the woods.

Derek watched Talia and Peter. He couldn’t blame them for getting tense; it felt unnatural, wrong, to watch his alpha go alone, toward a known threat. 

Talia marched up to the metal door of the railcar and ripped it right off. She tossed it aside. “Hey!” She used her most commanding voice to shout over the cacophony the betas were creating. “Deucalion! We need to talk.” She hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and waited, casual. 

Derek caught his breath. 

A lithe man sauntered out of the railcar. He had light hair and pointed features, cheeks flushed with what Derek guessed was anger. “Oh, Talia. You’ve taken your time getting here.”

“Take your betas and go,” Talia told him. “Get off my territory.” 

He bared his teeth. 

Beside Derek, Stiles’s heart was pounding, rage spilling from him. He was leaning forward, partially shifted and fangs bared. 

“I will not be leaving,” Deucalion said silkily. “This territory is _mine_.”

Talia shook her head. “Your pack lost, Deucalion. You know how this works.” 

He snarled. “_You_ said I was as bad as a _mutt!_ My lineage, my pack, was more prestigious than even the precious _Hale_ pack and you dared compare me to a mutt! I had to _take_ what was rightfully _mine_ because you challenged me and I was humiliated. My power, my rightful status, was given to another member of my pack. I had to _take_ it! Just like I will take this territory that belongs to _me._”

Talia barked out a laugh. She seemed baffled and almost amused. “What the hell are you talking about? I only said you weren’t any better than them-”

He lunged at her, roaring.

Everyone sprang forward.

Werewolves poured out of the railcar and into the trees. 

Stiles snarled and bolted into the thick of it.

Derek muttered, “Fuck,” and tried to keep up with him. 

A wolf tackled him from the side, fully shifted. Teeth dug into his forearm. 

He clamped his palm over her snout, blocking her airway. 

She let go with a yelp. 

Derek grabbed her by the scruff and tossed her to the side. 

Erica rolled past, tangled with another beta. She snapped her head forward and yanked back with a wet tearing sound. 

Blood sprayed. 

Derek caught a beta around the waist as he ran by. He twisted and threw him, then leaped on him. “Stay down,” he snarled. “Why are you fighting for him?”

The beta snapped at Derek’s face, fangs scraping his cheek. 

Derek pressed his palm down on his jugular, claws scraping the sides of his neck as he pinned him down. “You don’t have to-”

Another beta tackled him, sending the three of them rolling across the ground.

Claws dug into Derek's side, wrenching a sharp cry of pain from him, and the other beta landed on his chest, fangs dripping saliva and blood. A snarl sounded, and the beta on Derek’s chest was lifted. The other ripped his claws out of Derek’s flesh and arced back to slash at him again.

Stiles caught his head and twisted sharply. He tossed the body aside and pounced on the other one. He ripped his throat out with his claws, then looked at Derek, blood smeared on his cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t find Scott.” 

Derek pulled him off the body he was crouched on, wincing as his side healed. “Everyone knows not to kill him.”

Stiles glanced over at the mutts. “_Almost_ everyone.”

The large alpha from the candle shop howled suddenly. He was fighting three mutts and Boyd near the back of the fight, covered in blood. They were putting up a good fight, but he was an alpha and clearly had practice killing. He caught Boyd by the throat and squeezed; one of the mutts leaped on them both.

Stiles looked over his shoulder. Turned and sprang in one move. He landed on a wolf that’d been creeping up on Laura and slashed his claws through the beta’s throat. 

Derek charged at a group teaming up on Isaac. He lunged and locked his teeth on one of their throats, then yanked back. 

The other four stopped, briefly stunned at the gush of blood.

Isaac broke one of the beta's arms and freed himself, backing toward Derek. He was breathing hard through his mouth, nose obviously broken while his body healed the rest of his wounds.

“We can spare your lives,” Derek growled. He spat out blood and flesh. “You can submit. Don’t fight for him.”

“We have to!”

Someone screamed, long and agonized. Beneath the noise, something squished wetly. The scream cut off with a gurgle.

“Why do you have to?” Isaac demanded. His shirt was ripped, exposing three long gashes that were trying to heal along his ribs.

“He told us he’d change us back to humans if we killed you.” 

Derek glanced at Isaac. “That isn’t how it works…”

“Yes it is!” one of the women howled. She threw herself at Derek.

They crashed to the dirt.

Derek locked his legs around her and flipped their positions. He pinned his forearm across her throat to hold her down. “Listen. You aren’t going to change back. This is permanent.”

She jerked her head and bit his arm, digging her fangs in deep enough to scrape bone.

He ripped himself free, hissing at the sting.

She lunged at him; he slashed her throat open.

Erica was helping Isaac when he got up. She and Stiles were bloody, sporting wild, half-feral grins, and making Peter proud by ripping out vital organs bare handed. She glanced back at Derek. 

Gunshots fired.

“_Coward!_” Deucalion shouted. “Bringing hunters to a wolf fight!’

“It’s their town too!” Talia snarled. 

Derek lifted his head. 

She and Deucalion were further from the fight than they’d started. Both were bloodied but, Derek noted with a surge of fierce pride, Deucalion looked far worse. 

Stiles punched through a beta’s ribcage and yanked something out. Crushed it. Dropped the body. He scanned the crowd and whined. “I can’t find him.” He wiped blood on his shirt and scrubbed at his face as if clearing his nose. He rolled his shoulders and surged forward.

Three betas dropped to their knees when they saw him coming and bared their throats. 

“_Stiles_,” Derek snapped. He saw Stiles catch himself, saw the realization hit him. He walked over and put his hand on Stiles’s shoulder to remind him to stay put. Derek wasn’t surprised; Stiles was off leash, so to speak, and surrounded by enemies, on the offensive.

The betas didn’t seem to know where to look. 

“If you want to submit to our alpha, you’re going to have to fight with us to prove we can trust you.”

They nodded. 

“Get up then.”

Stiles grabbed one by the arm. “Where’s Scott?”

“I-”

A vicious snarl interrupted. 

Derek turned. 

Ennis and the mutt who’d reported to Peter were locked in a fight. The mutt roared and lurched forward, ducking Ennis’s wild punch and snapping his head forward. His teeth latched onto Ennis's throat; Ennis managed one last frantic swipe at the mutt's chest before the mutt ripped his throat out.

Stiles’s arms dropped to his sides.

The mutt let go of the body and stumbled back. His chest healed. His eyes turned from gold to red and his mouth dropped open in a slack-jawed expression of shock; fangs filled in the space, power flooding his body and making him shudder.

The other six mutts howled triumphantly. 

Deucalion roared. 

“There’s two,” the submitted beta gasped. “Two of us he made wouldn’t listen. They’re still inside.”

Stiles ran.

Derek looked around, panicked. 

“Go!” Cora yelled. She leaped by, tackling a beta in his fur. 

Derek tore after Stiles.


	40. Chapter 40

Stiles careened through the door of the railcar, still running when someone tackled him. They rolled together, snarling and snapping. Something metal clanked and wrapped around Stiles’s leg. He flinched and jerked forward, biting into flesh. 

She yelped. 

“Stiles, don’t!” Derek grabbed and lifted him. 

He spat blood and squinted, then stopped fighting Derek’s grip.

It was Patricia Frank, bloody and chained to the wall. She froze, too, and glared at them. “_You’re_ Stiles?”

“Yes…”

She jerked her chin. “That guy talks about you a lot.” She tugged on the chain. “Can you get us out of here?”

“We can break-”

“Why are you chained up?” Stiles cut in.

She glared at him. “We don’t have _time_-”

“Why?”

She yanked on the chain again, letting out a frustrated snarl. “Ugh! We’re chained because we fought him the most! He threatened my kids and I tried to rip his face off!”

Derek shrugged at Stiles and bent to start pulling on the manacle. 

“Why couldn’t you break out yourself?” Stiles demanded. 

She shrugged. “No idea.”

“Not a solid pack,” Derek said. “No foundation, no shared strength.” He jerked his chin. “Go let him out.” 

“He’s been sulking about something. After Carter escaped, Deucalion chained us together,” Patricia said. 

Stiles moved toward the huddled mass next to the wall and gasped. “Scott!”

Derek grunted as metal groaned. 

Stiles grabbed Scott and yanked him into a rough hug. “Oh, my god, I’m so mad at you.”

Scott snuffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I attacked you!” 

“Don’t worry about it. We all-”

“Can we talk _later?_” Patricia snarled. “We have to _go_. If you-” she jabbed a finger at Stiles- “are the guy he was talking about, I’m guessing that means the _Hales_ he was ranting about are here, too.”

Stiles looked at Derek. 

He stopped pulling on the manacle. “Yes,” he replied slowly. “Why?”

Patricia glared. “We are running out of _time_. He called the police!”

Stiles let go of Scott. “What?”

Patricia nodded frantically. 

“Why would a werewolf call the police during a territory dispute?”

Stiles gestured at Scott to give him his shackled foot. 

“I don’t _know_. He said something about leaving them with a bunch of bodies when the police arrive.”

Stiles grasped Scott’s manacle and started pulling. “Makes sense,” he grunted. 

“_How?_” Derek demanded as he started working on Patricia’s shackle again.

“Deucalion lost to Talia in a fight before, right? Why risk the humiliation of losing again when he can just get her arrested? It’s not like she can escape without exposing what she is.” His mouth twisted in a snarl. He pulled as hard as he could. “Then,” he grunted, “after she’s arrested, the rest of the pack has to flee or get arrested, too. He can take the territory.”

Derek grumbled. The metal screamed as he wrenched it apart. 

Stiles glowered and kept pulling, but the cuff wouldn’t break.

Scott started helping. 

Their combined strength finally snapped it, and, freed, Scott jumped to his feet. 

“Come on. We have to warn everyone.” Derek ran out the door. 

Patricia caught Stiles’s arm. “He was lying about changing us back, wasn’t he?”

Stiles nodded. “I’m sorry,” he added. 

She shook her head. “Come on, before he gets away.”

The fight was deeper in the trees, hidden from sight of the road, but the scent of blood, adrenaline, and fury was thick enough from afar. 

Scott stayed right beside Stiles as they ran back.

Talia and Deucalion were far removed from the group as they fought, twisting somehow deeper into the trees. He was trying to get away. All he needed was for Talia to lose focus for a second. 

Stiles snarled. He was _not_ getting away and pinning this on them. He bore down, running as fast as he could. 

Derek was nearly on them. 

Adam yelped and went down under four betas. 

Talia turned. 

Deucalion bolted. 

Stiles roared and tore after him, catching up to Derek and then surpassing him. He leaped and hit Deucalion mid-back, sending them rolling head over heels. “We were supposed to be friends!” Stiles punched him. 

Deucalion flicked him off. “We are!”

Stiles caught himself and launched at him again. “You betrayed and manipulated me! You stole my memories, you _hurt_ me!” He dug claws into Deucalion’s chest, only to be flung into the dirt.

Deucalion stopped moving, watching him. “You would’ve been like a son to me! All you had to do was agree to join my pack and leave _hers_.”

Stiles laughed wildly. “_What?_”

“Come with me. We can start a new alpha pack.” He held a hand out.

Derek tackled him, snarling, and Stiles jumped in to help. 

Even with two of them, Deucalion almost managed to shove them off. 

Talia stomped on his back. “Hold his arms,” she growled. 

Stiles dropped his full weight on Deucalion’s left arm; Derek did the same to his right. 

Talia reached down. 

Deucalion twisted, snapping at Derek’s face. 

Stiles dug claws into his arm, drawing blood until he turned to face him instead. 

Talia grabbed his head, ignoring his snarling and snapping teeth, and twisted. She pulled so hard his skin ripped. 

Stiles looked away and spotted Scott three yards away. 

He was throwing up.

“Mom,” Derek said urgently. “The police are on their way. We have to go.”

She bared her teeth, still glaring down at Deucalion’s body. Her gaze was empty and animal, bright red and locked on Deucalion’s broken neck. 

Stiles was glad he wasn’t the only one who felt that way sometimes. 

“Mom!”

She finally looked up. 

“He called the police to frame you—us—for the murders.”

“Well, it _was_ murder,” Stiles muttered. 

Derek glared at him.

Talia nodded. “Peter!”

“Everyone who wants to live, grab a body and get a move on. Follow me,” he ordered. 

“_Now_!” Talia commanded. All of her and the submitted betas snapped into motion. The mutts began moving when their new alpha nodded, too, while the Argents took care of the leftover betas that were still fighting. 

“Is that Allison?” Scott asked faintly. 

Police sirens roared closer. 

Patricia walked up to Talia. “Leave him. I have an idea. I presume you’re the alpha he,” she kicked Deucalion’s body lightly, “was always ranting about?”

“Most likely.”

She nodded. “I’m guessing I was reported missing?”

Talia said, “Yes…”

Patricia told her the plan. “I’ll need some help with the staging,” she finished. “But who’s going to investigate a kidnap victim very closely? Especially if we plant a few bodies…”

Talia smiled. 

Peter stayed to help Patricia and had Stiles and Erica coordinate the very quick body removal instead. 

“Dude,” Scott breathed as he watched them flip a tarp over some piled in Peter’s truck.

“What?” Stiles wiped blood off his hands. “Look, I know you’re a pillar of moral high ground, but they were trying to kill us, and we can’t exactly claim self-defense.”

Scott shook his head. “I wasn’t judging you. Did you know Allison knew about us? _And_ Mr. and Mrs. Argent?”

Stiles laughed, strained. “Oh, Scotty. So much you don’t know.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!

Peter looked over the roaring flames, then gestured at Erica to go ahead and add another body. Isaac and Stiles followed with the last of them. 

“It’s gonna take a while to get down to the bones. We’ll take watch in shifts.” 

“How are you going to get it hot enough to burn them?” Erica demanded. “It’s impos-”

Peter pulled a paper packet from his pocket. “Magic. Just toss it in, Stiles,” he added. He shook the packet impatiently. 

Isaac looked around. “Aren’t you worried it’s going to spread?”

Erica scoffed. “To what?”

They were deep in the desert, far enough away from people that they couldn’t hear, see, or smell any signs of human life. 

“It won’t spread,” Peter sighed. “I have another potion from the same witch I bought this from to instantly put the flames out.” 

“Huh.” Isaac leaned closer to sniff at the packet and wrinkled his nose. 

“Stay back once I throw this in, okay? It shouldn’t burn anything other than what’s _in_ the flames, but I don’t want to risk anyone getting injured.” 

They all took hasty steps back.

Peter tossed the packet into the fire without opening it.

The flames sparked, then roared higher. 

Stiles was shocked to see the bodies burning black already. He could barely feel more than a pleasant warmth on his face. 

“Nice.” 

“Erica, you and Isaac will take the first watch, Stiles and Derek overnight, and then I’ll take the last watch until it’s done.” Peter handed Erica a vial. The liquid inside was gray and effervescent. “If the fire for _some reason_ spreads, toss that in it. But keep that safe otherwise. It’s our way to put the fire out.” 

“Got it.” Erica put it in her bra, then winked when Isaac grimaced. “Did we pack anything to eat?”

“Yeah, I brought the cooler.”

“Got it!” Derek climbed out of Peter’s truck with the cooler. He was only there because Stiles was. Body disposal wasn’t usually his area of expertise, but he’d brought some documents he was translating for someone to keep busy while they were making the fire. 

He brought the cooler over to them with his shirt over his nose. He grimaced as it slipped down. 

“Thanks.” Stiles handed the cooler to Isaac. “We can go wait in the truck if you want.”

He nodded. 

Their watch started at around eleven that night, when Erica and Isaac crawled into the truck to sleep. They sat a safe distance from the fire, though the magic kept it from being too dangerous, side by side. Derek put his notebook and documents in his lap. Most of the bodies were unrecognizable piles of char now. 

Stiles leaned up against Derek’s arm and sighed. 

Derek brushed a kiss against the top of his head. 

“My job let me go,” Stiles said after a few minutes. 

Derek tensed. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I’m not. I didn’t have a passion for it.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I barely even liked it, honestly.”

Derek nodded and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his palms. His shoes had dried blood on them, caked into the laces and toes, and his jeans were ripped, though that was more likely from roughhousing with Boyd than it was from the fight. “One of Mom’s friends hunts down magical books and artifacts for people.” He turned his head away from the fire, toward Stiles.

He sat up straight. “_Really?!_ That sounds awesome!”

Derek smiled at him. “We can call her when we get home, if you want. See if she needs an employee.” 

“Oh my god, _yes_. That sounds amazing, yes, please!” 

Derek’s smile widened. 

At home, the mutts—well, they weren’t mutts any longer, since the gray wolf was an alpha now—had left to go back to their territory at the base of the mountain with a promise of continued Hale protection. Most of Deucalion’s betas had gone with them. 

“I’m glad he became an alpha,” Derek said, as if he’d heard Stiles thinking about them. “From what Peter said, he basically took care of them all anyway. Now they’re a proper pack together.”

“Yeah. I wish he’d told us his name.” 

Derek looked uncomfortable. “Dad thinks he probably forgot it. He’s about eighty. He’s probably been living as a wolf for a long time.” 

Stiles frowned. “That...sucks.” 

Derek nodded, and they fell into a comfortable silence. 

Patricia—who went by Trish—had joined their pack. Her plan had gone off without a hitch. “Abducted Local Woman Kills Kidnapper in Desperate Bid for Escape” made for a good headline, especially followed with the subtitle of “Hero deputy pulls her from sadistic killer’s makeshift dungeon”. Needless to say, the sheriff’s department (including Deputy Blithely) had stopped investigating the Hales. 

Stiles said, “I’m going to move back home, to Beacon Hills.”

Derek tilted his head toward him.

“My neighbors are kinda loud,” he said lightly. 

Derek nodded. “Well, your room is always available for you.”

Stiles looked at him. “Why can’t we just share a room?”

He was quiet for a minute, but his heart was beating rapidly, a smile curling his mouth. “Sure,” he said lightly. “We could do that.”

Stiles leaned up against his side again. “We’re gonna get married someday, right?” He didn’t look away from the flames. 

“Right.”

“Okay.” He put his arm around his waist. 

Derek hummed. “I love you.”

Stiles smiled and squeezed. “I love you, too.” He glanced at the base of the fire, then away. “This...is a weird place to have this conversation.”

Derek snorted. 

Erica shouted, “No shit!” from the truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully that was a satisfactory ending for everyone! If not, I'm sorry; I tried really hard to fix what I could. Some of the plot wasn't my favorite and my writing style was a bit choppier in this than it usually is. 
> 
> I've written over 360k words this year, posted and unposted, and I'm super, super burned out. That being said, I'm gonna take a break from writing and read for a while, keep a reading journal (fic and books! woo!) and probably post dumb shit on instagram, twitter, tumblr, etc. because I need to sweep the cobwebs out of my brain. I hope you enjoyed this! I have a few fics that need to be edited but will eventually be posted, but I definitely won't be posting as much as I did this year. I'm very tired, ha. 
> 
> Like I said, I hope you all enjoyed this fic! I did have fun writing it, but I seriously need a break. <3


End file.
